Harry Potter and the Kiss of Aphrodite
by Lucedivita
Summary: Harry discovers that an ancient relic found in Greece may be Lavender's only hope to heal injuries she sustained during the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry enters into a series of relationships that force him to learn the difference between passion and love. One witch is unhappy with Harry's decision and makes it her mission to hurt him and those he loves. Series ends w/ DH Epilogue.
1. TP 01 The Letter

**Chapter 1 – The Letter**

**Submitted: Wednesday 11 January 2012 **

**A/N: SPOILER ALERT: This is the second of two stories. You may read this story without reading the first - there will obviously be a few spoilers. **

He knew this wouldn't be a typical day when he stepped out of the Floo at the Ministry. Each day could be judged by the first looks Harry received when he stepped out of the floo and into the Atrium. The best look he could receive, of course, was indifference. That meant nothing had been written about him and nothing new was being discussed. There was also adulation, anger and fear. Today's look was one he hadn't seen in quite some time...pity. He was reminded very quickly that he didn't enjoy the pity stare very much at all.

He'd learned very early on that it was best to go on with his day and let the news come to him. Today he did just that. Harry sat in his cubicle reviewing the evening's activity report when his best mate Ron crept into his own cube without so much as a word. Harry heard the rustle behind him but ignored it for the moment. Typically Ron was all words and smiles so when Ron entered any room quietly Harry usually took it to be bad news.

When Harry couldn't find any more work to do he finally turned around, "Morning, Mate. How's Hermione? Is she still having nightmares?"

Ron was pale but he actually looked grateful that the topic was Hermione, "Erm, only once over the weekend. Mum still wants us there at the Burrow for another week or so. She's still upset that you didn't stay..."

Harry had decided to move directly into Grimmauld Place following the end of their final term. He decided staying at the Burrow would be awkward. Mrs. Weasley had immediately begun asking why Ginny had not returned with the others and Harry simply did not want to be there when the explanation was made. It was all embarrassing enough.

"I know Ron. I'll drop in soon and apologise. You and Hermione have been the only ones I've seen outside of the Ministry."

"You said you'd drop by last week as well. All the same, I don't think you'll have to apologise after today." Ron panicked when he realised he'd brought up the very thing he hadn't wanted to bring up. Harry knew he was asking for it but he decided he might as well hear whatever bad news from Ron rather than some random person in the office. Before Ron could answer Hermione came rushing in, "Oh, Harry!"

Ron's shoulders slumped with defeat which told Harry all he needed to know. He was about to get all of the pity he could stand. Hermione stole a quick kiss from her boyfriend before attacking Harry with a hug that said more "I'm sorry" than "Hello."

"It was so unfair what she wrote about you Harry," Hermione groused as she released him. There was only one writer that the three of them referred to as "She."

Harry knew better but he wanted to get this over with. He held his hand out, fully expecting she had brought a copy. Hermione looked at him dumbfounded, "You haven't read it yet?" Harry shook his head and Ron ducked even more as she lot lasers at him, "Ron was supposed to tell you as soon as he saw you so you weren't ambushed!"

She handed Harry the paper and he shook it open:

_**5 July 1999 The Daily Prophet**_

_**Chosen One Visibly Shaken After Nasty Breakup – by Rita Skeeter**_

_**Two weeks ago today Harry Potter was dumped by his girlfriend Miss Ginny Weasley very soon after completing his final year at Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. The writer Rita Skeeter came across the letter that Ginny Weasley, of Ottery St. Catchpole, sent two weeks ago ending the relationship. She kept it under wraps in order to protect the privacy of Mr. Harry Potter but it has since surfaced that Witch Weekly planned to publish a libellous piece blaming the poor wizard for being negligent to the young lady.**_

_**Witch Weekly and Quidditch Weekly, it has surfaced, planned to publish simultaneous pieces announcing the stunning and talented Miss Ginevra Weasley as the new Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies and announcing Ginny as the Wizarding World's newest and most eligible single witch. What the Harpies and Miss Weasley did not want to come to light was her plan to sever ties with Mr. Potter in order to improve her marketability to single blokes. In what must be an all-time low, the two publications planned to publish an interview by the young witch accusing Harry of being a negligent lover, heavy-handed and easily jealous. In the past, stories had been written about Harry, accusing him of being mentally imbalanced, and the papers hoped to leverage these bits of misinformation in order to keep Ginny's reputation intact following what they expected might be a very nasty public breakup.**_

_**As a result, Rita Skeeter was forced to pull out this embarrassing letter that she'd rather keep private. So that Mr. Harry Potter could be saved the most horrible and embarrassing details, she took the liberty of blotting out the worst parts with irremovable permanent ink. Please read the actual letter, in the young witch's writing and judge for yourself: **_

_21 June 1999_

_Dear Harry,_

_I am very sorry for leaving so suddenly. I know that it was unfair for me to leave school without warning and especially without giving you an answer to your proposal but I think you knew what my answer was just by my reaction. Thinking back, even my reaction was unfair._

_I have been very angry with you for doing things that at the time I did not fully understand. Now, knowing your motives, I regret xxxx X xx xxxxx xxxxx. Xxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx. I need a bloke who is willing to support me but still let me xxxx xx xxx xxx xx xxx xxxxx._

_X xxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxx I accepted the contract to play for the Harpies and I have agreed to spend the year with them xxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xxx xx xxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xx xxx xxxxxxx xxxxx. Xxxx xxxx xxx xxx xxxxxx xxxx xxx xxx xx xx xxxx xxxx xxx xxxxx xxx, X xxx xxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxx X xxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxx so that I can say that I was a success at something all on my own. If I didn't do this, if instead I married you now and we had children, I xxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxxxxx xxx xx xxxxxxx xxx would become merely Mrs. Ginny Potter – wife to the Chosen One._

_X xxxx xxxx xx xxxx Xxxxx. X xxxx xxxxx xxx Xxxx Xxxxx Xxxxxxx xx. Xx xxxxx xxx xx xx xx xx xxxx X xxxx xx xx xxxx xx. Xx xxxx xxxx xxx xxxxxx. I need to release myself from xxx xx xxx xxxxxx xxxx X xxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxx xx xxxxx xxx. Xxxxxx I xxxx xx xxxxxx xx fancy another xxxxx xx xxx xxxxx X xxx xxxxx xx xxxxxxxx xxx xxx xxxx xxxx xxxxxx X xx xxx xxxxxx xxx xx xxxx xxx xx. _

_Xxxxxx xxxx xx xxxx X xxxxxxx. X xxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxx xxxx xxxxxxxx X xxxx xxxx xx x xxxxx. To give you up xxxx xx xxxx xxxxxx seems like the actions of a mad woman. Maybe they are. Xxx xx X xxxx xx xxxx X xxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxxxx xx xxx._

_With a heavy heart,_

_Ginny_

_**As you can see, Ginny was unhappy that Harry was not willing to lavish her with the gifts she felt she deserved. She was looking for a bloke who was willing to support her but would leave her to her own devices...And then she admits freely that she fancied another. Details of the torrid affair were blotted out for Harry's sake. Expect to see interviews with Harry where he defends the actions of this self-righteous tart – Harry has always taken the honourable path and defended those he loved even when they have done him wrong. Does anyone remember his defence of Dumbledore who all but trotted him out to be slaughtered?**_

_**But why? Harry should be relieved – such a horrible, gold-digging, self-promoting young witch does not deserve the affections of a brave honourable hero such as Harry Potter. And to all of you young ladies – I call dibs on the first night out with a now single, rich and absolutely famous wizard. I may be a few years outside of his ideal age but a witch can dream – can't she? **_

_**(See pictures of Miss Ginny Weasley below. Now young, beautiful and single...but dating her comes at what price?)**_

Hermione watched Harry carefully. He read the entire article without any visible emotion. When he was done he looked up at Hermione and merely stated, "All of this...it's slander."

"No Harry," Hermione corrected him, "It's libel. Slander is when someone tells a lie about someone. Rita wrote it - which makes it libel." Ron let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. As much as Ron loved Hermione, she could be as insufferable as Percy at times. Hermione blushed in response to Ron's admonishment. She too realised the foolishness of correcting Harry but her nervousness had taken over and the comment had slipped out. It was George who had pointed out the article as she and Mrs. Weasley had finally cancelled their subscriptions. She had recognised the handwriting immediately but couldn't believe that her mate could end her relationship with Harry in such a cold and heartless manner.

Harry was still studying the paper closely, "I don't know how she got it but it is the actual letter." Hermione heard Ron suck in another uncomfortable breath. Harry now had the paper as close to his eyes as he could while still focusing, "Rita just blacked out the nice stuff and left just the right words to make Ginny sound awful. Sneaky old bat. I'd better send a note to the Harpies so they know that Ginny was taken way out of context. They probably already know but I don't want her cut just because of some hot-head making a knee-jerk decision. Hermione, if I write something real quick will you deliver it by hand? If I send an owl it won't reach Holyhead before lunch."

"Of course." She watched Harry as he jotted a few lines on a piece of parchment. Ron was still sitting nervously in his chair and fumbling around with a report from the previous afternoon. Harry, on the other hand, looked perfectly level-headed and business-like. Hermione didn't know how to take the calm, "Harry, how can you just sit there and not be upset after what she wrote?"

Harry didn't answer until he finished his note. When he was done he folded the parchment in half and placed it in an envelope. He then pulled out some wax and pulled off his Potter signet ring. He dabbed the ring in the wax and then sealed the envelope. Hermione took it from him, "Harry?"

"Because," the anger was now plainly visible, "I haven't seen Quilvash yet."

As Hermione left for Holyhead she worried that Harry might do something foolish. She was correct. The moment she left, he and Ron went and found two Aurors. He then walked with his party to an office that few were allowed in without invitation. The Aurors noticed that the receptionist didn't even bother to stop him as he made for the half-open door. He knocked and looked in, "Minister, I hate to ask with such short notice but can you spare a half an hour away from the Ministry? I need a witness."

The Minister considered for a moment and fumbled through his schedule, "Ever since Mr. Weasley was promoted to Director of Weights and Measures I've had a mess of a time finding an adequate replacement. No-one from your year with the credentials either." He finally found his schedule, "I can spare twenty, can we make it quick?" Harry only nodded and they headed for the Floos.

As they walked at a brisk pace Harry thought to ask, "No-one had the credentials from my class?"

"Two did that I trusted," mumbled the Minister, "But one doesn't care much for politics and the other preferred to help Fairies and House Elves secure the right to vote." A snigger could be heard from the Aurors that followed and Harry couldn't help but join in. As they neared the Floos he reminded the Minister, "Be nice. She's my mate. She doesn't want them to vote. She only feels they deserve certain rights."

"Where are we going Harry?" asked the Minister.

The young wizard grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, "The Daily Prophet!" and he stepped into the Floo without looking back.

"Crap!" grumbled the Minister, but he followed faithfully behind his mate and the three Aurors.

Shacklebolt would never normally have agreed to follow a wizard blindly without asking. Certainly, most wizards would have never made it into his office without an appointment. Harry, though, had saved the Minister's life and they'd grown close over the past year. Harry had done so much for so many that the Minister tended to overlook his outbursts and his antics – besides he was much less trouble than the average Quidditch star. It didn't hurt that the public viewed his friendship with Harry as a key reason to trust him as Minister but that was more of a nice side effect than a reason for loyalty. The Minister knew that while Harry's methods were often crude and reactionary, they were for good reason. The Minister thought to himself that this obviously was not a visit that Harry had talked out with Hermione and he caught himself chuckling as he made for a pinch of Floo Powder.

When Shacklebolt stepped into the front offices at the Prophet, Harry was talking quietly to a pretty young witch sitting at a desk. Ron and the other two Aurors still did not understand what was going on. Once Harry had the information he needed he asked the witch in his kindest voice, "If I make a declaration in front of you and the Minister will you promise to speak the truth if brought before the Wizengamut to testify?" The witch nodded uncertainly.

Harry returned his attention to the others, "Minister, what I'm about to do is as a plain citizen of England and I hereby request that you temporarily suspend my privileges and duties as an Auror of the Ministry."

The Minister knew he had little choice so he granted Harry's request with a sigh. He didn't know what was about to happen but he was sure it would not be good. He'd rather it happen now while he was here to limit the damage rather than have Harry come back alone.

Harry returned to the receptionist and smiled with his best boyish grin, "Thank you." She only nodded and blushed. She watched Harry hand his wand to Ron and open the Editor's door. From that point forward she could only hear.

"What in Merlin's Beard is going on? Mr. Potter! What are you doing here?" Mr. Quilvash was obviously angry. "Minister, what are you doing here with your Aurors? I thought the days of the Ministry intimidating the press was a thing of the past?"

The receptionist, Miss Flanagan, heard the Minister's deep baritone, "Actually, Mr. Potter has just informed me he is taking a leave of absence. I was worried after the story you allowed to be written that you might have provoked him to do something foolish so I came to make sure this doesn't get out of hand." With the pause she strained to listen more closely, "He released his wand into our custody so I imagine he can't do too much damage."

Harry interrupted, "What were you thinking printing that story? Do you realise you could ruin her? You let Rita blot out all of the important stuff and you printed something that made Ginny look like a monster. What you did was slander!"

Miss Flanagan edged forward as much as she could because she could barely hear her editor's smug voice, "No you Cretan. IF...I say if, what was written was untrue - it would be libel."

The next noise was a girl-like scream followed by rustling. The Minister could be heard trying to settle things down but Quilvash was loudest of all. He screamed and moaned with a nasally drawl, "Arrest him! Arrest him! He broke my nose. That bastard broke my nose...again!"

The Aurors could be heard chuckling as they bound Harry up. Miss Flanagan tried to peek from behind her desk but could only see the backs of her manager's shoes and his bum high as he was crouched on the floor with his arse waving in the air like a pig at slop. She thought she saw a little blood. She tried to sit back naturally as the Aurors pulled a bound Harry Potter out. He was shaking a hand in pain while shouting back at the Editor, "And you dare write another unflattering story about Ginny I will come back in here and break your bloody nose again! You understand?"

The Minister followed the Aurors out with a sheepish grin on his face. He stopped at the door and turned back to the Editor who was still wallowing around on the floor, "You do realise he's not bluffing, right? And I can't spare the resources to stop him. I don't have the time or the energy for it." The Minister then joined the two Aurors and saw Harry shaking his hand gingerly at the Floo while whispering something to Ron. Before the Auror's escorted Harry through the Floo, the Minister took him by the shoulder and admonished him sternly like a father to a son, "I have told you before _never_ to use your wand hand."

Before he himself took the Floo out, Shacklebolt gave a slight bow to Miss Flanagan and tried to smile, "Good day." And then he was gone.

All that was left for the assistant in the Office of _The Prophet _was a balding piggish wizard that squealed in pain and shouted curses after Harry. She _so _wished she could have gone with them.


	2. TP 02 Rewards

**Chapter 2 – Rewards**

**Submitted: 11 January 2012**

Harry paced while Hermione sat. The message had been vague:

_Wednesday 7 July 1999_

_Miss Granger,_

_I have some business to discuss with you and Mr. Potter. Please confirm that Noon Monday will be convenient. _

_Sincerely,_

_Professor McGonagall_

_Headmistress Hogwarts SW&W_

Presently, Hermione sat as Harry paced nervously. He'd been released the day following his scrape with Quilvash after meeting with a magistrate who gave him the option of a fine or two days served at the Ministry short term holding. The magistrate did not find it amusing when Harry asked if he could get a bulk discount, "Boy, I don't care who you are. If I find you here again for a similar charge you will spend a weekend at Azkaban to get your head on straight."

Now, snores from many of the portraits indicated that this was just another lazy Monday afternoon during the holiday. The room was softly lit with a mixture of candlelight and carefully drawn curtains that allowed just enough sunlight for the time of the day.

"Mr. Potter, you are going to wear a path into my floor if you continue on like that. How many times have I asked you not to pace in my office?" Hermione looked up to find the stern smile of the Headmistress greet her from the entry. "Sit down Mr. Potter so we may get down to business."

Harry sat. The Professor opened a drawer and pulled out a parchment, "I've been looking forward to this since the beginning of last term. You will need to ask Mr. Weasley to forgive me for not inviting him as well. I was told it was difficult for him to get away." The Professor smiled at her mentee, "You, dear, are one lucky witch."

Hermione was confused, "Why is that?"

Professor McGonagall beamed at her favourite student, "I was and am the Executor for Professor Dumbledore's Estate. If you only _knew_ the riches you have inherited."

"But his will was already read. And I don't really need gold. I'm..."

The Professor shook her head, "No dear. There is no gold. No gold or houses or anything of the sort. Dumbledore gave that to the school. What Dumbledore left you was much more valuable. He left you his books and his research notes."

Harry stole a glance at the portrait of his mentor and caught a twinkle in the Professor's eye.

"But why me?" asked a confused Hermione.

"It's quite simple really," Minerva replied, "You have the most brilliant mind of any student in quite some time. And the research he was performing requires a young mind. My head is already filled with what _can't_ be done. Research needs to be done by those that believe anything to be possible. Think of them as a graduation gift."

"But," Hermione seemed uncomfortable, "the Headmaster's library is usually left with the school. It's usually left here in the Headmaster's office. I read in _**A History of Hogwarts**_ that all of the previous headmasters' collections are here at Hogwarts"

"Yes," McGonagall agreed, "and a few of his books will be left here as well as his journals from his time as Headmaster. All the same, it is his discretion what he does with his personal research and his books. He feels some of those books will be better served in your hands. Up here they'd only collect dust. He saw something in you that made him believe you could do many wonderful things with them. What you _decide_ to do – well, that's up to you. Now let's have a look at them."

The Professor beckoned Hermione into the adjoining library. Harry remained in the office in his chair. "You seem to be deep in thought," noted the portrait of his mentor. "And all of that pacing. What has you so worried, Harry?"

"Nothing really," Harry answered. "I was expecting bad news. The professor had been so vague in her message. It always seems like there is something."

Harry had shared the identity of his stalker in the forest the previous year with only a few. He'd been concerned that friends and family of the guilty would be hurt unnecessarily. Currently, the Headmistress, the Minister, Hermione and a select few knew the identity of the wizard that had harassed the school and the Centaurs. The shade of Dumbledore was also aware and he knew better than most that the final confrontation had been hard on both Harry and Hermione.

The former Headmaster's eyes softened, "It does seem that way, doesn't it? I assure you Harry that if you look hard enough you can always find evil lurking somewhere. You will live very unhappily if you spend your life searching for it. This is why so many Aurors end their careers alone. You have earned some time to be happy. I assure you that eventually there will be another need for Harry Potter but for now you should enjoy the serenity and calm that you have helped create."

The former Headmaster lit up when Hermione returned, "Well, Hermione, what do you think about the books? By the look on your face I'd say they meet your expectations? I recommend you begin with the journal dated 1918. If memory serves correctly either that year or the next I did research into some magic that would work in conjunction with what you have planned for our little Hecate."

Hermione found her voice, "Thank you so much! You don't know how much I appreciate this. There are so many!"

"I expect you to use your new wand when performing your research. I rarely had the opportunity to revisit my work once I was in possession of the Elder Wand as by then I served more of an administrative capacity. I still tinkered with things but I never had the opportunity that you have Miss Granger." Dumbledore looked at Harry, "And you should take pains to look through these books as well. Just because you've finished your schooling does not mean you should stop learning. Often Hermione will need your help. Some of my research delved into topics that will require your expertise."

Harry thought carefully. He wondered what Hermione could possibly need his help with.

Again the Headmaster's eyes twinkled with mischief, "You will know soon enough Harry. I think you will enjoy the journey more if I let you see for yourself."

"I think that about covers it," Professor McGonagall considered. With your permission, Miss Granger, I will have a few house elves apparate directly to your flat with the books."

Harry shook his head, "Kreacher would have my head if we didn't allow him to handle this. He complains he and Winky don't have enough to do already." Hermione cast an annoyed look at him but he only shrugged, "You know how he is...Kreacher!"

The bullfrog greeting followed immediately after the "Crack!" announcing the elf's arrival. Now that Harry lived in the house, Kreacher took on a more dignified air. Gone were the days when he skulked about the house dirty and unkempt. While he still wore the traditional dress of the house elf, much like a pillow cover, it was spotless and crisp. He looked healthy as well as clean and he stood up straight when he arrived.

The Headmistress was honestly shocked at the change in the elf. She couldn't take her eyes off the elf but she motioned for him and Hermione together, "Let's show him which books to take Miss Granger." Before they left the room the Professor remembered, "Oh, and Mr. Potter, one last thing. I mentioned this to Hermione already, due to services performed and your honoured status here at the school you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger have unlimited access to the library during it's normal hours – including the Restricted Section. All that I ask is that the books do not leave the castle."

With that Harry was dismissed – at least that's what it felt like. Hermione and the Professor slipped back into the Headmaster's library with Kreacher and he heard the occasional "Crack!" After the third one he decided he'd leave them to their business and visit old friends.

Harry decided to see Hecate before Hagrid. He wasn't even sure if Hagrid would be there considering it was the holiday. The school had decided to let Hecate stay within the forest as this allowed her to continue to explore her gifts with Professors Firenze and Trelawney. Harry wondered as he walked into the forest whether he'd ever convince her to rejoin the world. He understood her reluctance but he also was keenly aware of the loneliness that her self-imposed banishment subjected her to.

He did not have long to think, "Harry!" shouted Lavender in her sing-songy voice as she caught him in his thoughts. "I had a feeling today was a perfect day to take a walk in the forest."

Harry noticed that the robes and travelling cloaks he'd had made for her the previous September definitely did their job. Her humped back was barely noticeable and one would barely know that one shoulder was taller than the other.

Of course, no clothing could hide the scars on her face or the ashen colour to her skin. One eye was just larger than the other and it always looked as if it was about to tear up. Her nose was crooked. One of her cheeks looked as if it had been crushed and then rebuilt by a blind wizard. Her chin now protruded just slightly more than it should. Often she'd joke with Harry that she was eventually going to place a wart on her nose to finish the look.

"You didn't visit before you left," she chided Harry as they walked toward the lake, "After what happened I'd hope you'd drop by and let me know you were ok."

Harry frowned, "But you knew it would happen for months. You knew I would be fine."

"I wasn't certain. I tried to help guide you when there was a chance you might choose poorly. For example, I believe if I'd hadn't warned you about Ron and his unknowing betrayal that you would have reacted differently. There was a possibility that you wouldn't have trusted him the rest of the term and that would not have ended well."

"You know what else happened at the end of term then?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

Harry shook his head.

"Don't look at me like that. I read about it in the Prophet along with everyone else." Hecate felt a cold chill, "Don't be like that. I no longer take the Prophet but I'd heard from Hagrid that it was rather cruel. Was that letter real?"

Harry didn't reply one way or the other but the look on his face was all the answer she needed, "Oh, Harry! But how? Ginny wouldn't have given that bloodsucker a copy. Would she?"

Despite his mood Hecate's unintentional pun earned her a smile, "Bloodsucker? Rita Skeeter? Really?" Hecate punched him on the arm playfully, "Oy!" and his smile stuck, "Her name is rather appropriate now that you mention it."

Soon they reached the lake and they enjoyed the warmth of the midday sun. Harry imagined by the look on her face that Hecate would love to shed the robes that hid her disfigured body and swim free. Hecate noticed him staring at her, "Yes, I know what you are thinking. I'd love to just throw it all off and swim as nature intended me to. Each May a few Hufflepuffs would sneak out here with me and we'd do just that. That Justin boy and Hannah came out a few times early on but he was too interested in trying to get his hands on what he saw. That one was like a squid, he was - all arms and no brains."

Harry couldn't help but remember hearing something similar from Hannah. He wondered how a boy could be so forward with a girl. Even when alone with Ginny he'd been shy.

"Do you think Ginny and I will ever be able to figure things out?"

"Oh Harry..." Hecate rested her head on his shoulder. She picked up a small pebble and turned it as small flecks caught the sunlight, "I imagine that depends entirely on you." When she noticed Harry had stiffened up she explained more, "Eventually you will need to choose between a chance at true love or a life of certain happiness. I can only tell you that if you choose wrong then you will lose nearly all that you now hold dear.

Harry blinked, "Are you giving me a reading now or are you trying to make me feel better?"

Hecate grinned and and she squeezed his arm gently, "Oh, Harry, you are so precious. Don't worry so much that I can see things. You nearly always have a choice. You _do _realise that Ginny leaving was _your_ choice, don't you? There was no fate involved. Your own actions created your current situation."

"But I just..."

"...Did the right thing. You performed a truly selfless act which had ramifications totally unexpected. And if you'd known I imagine you'd have done nothing different. That is what is so wonderful about you. You would happily take a chance at losing love in order to see someone you love happy. That_ is_ true love, Harry."

Hecate looked deep into Harry's eyes.

"I know exactly what sacrifices you made. I assure you Harry that if you hadn't taken the effort to train her as a Seeker and let her play in your place that Saturday, her fate would have been much different. She would not have had the strength to go against her mother's wishes if the Harpies had not come calling. She'd have given up on Quidditch and she would have married you. We both know Ginny, Harry, and I promise you it would not have ended well. I don't think you truly understand how large a shadow your fame casts. Without the success and fame that she will certainly have with the Harpies it would be nearly impossible for her to withstand the constant insecurities that she would have had as your girlfriend or your wife."

Hecate threw the pebble into the water, "...And your marriage would have had as much chance of success as that pebble had at floating."

Harry seemed to perk up, "So we do have a chance then? You're saying we needed this?"

"I said no such thing. I said you did the right thing. You of all people know that doing the right thing does not mean you get what you want. In fact, often, doing the right thing means just the opposite."

Harry slouched, "Blimey, Hecate, you are worse than Dumbledore. Why can't I just do what makes me happy instead of what is right for once?"

"That is a good question, Harry. For once why don't you do what will make you happy instead of what is right?" The look on her face made him laugh.

Changing the subject he asked, "So what does my future hold then?"

"Well, soon you will make a long journey..." she cheeked in a mocking mysterious voice.

"Stop!" he laughed. "Now you are just winding me up. You sound like Trelawney. Next you'll say I'm in graaave danger."

Hecate grinned, "No, a long journey is enough for now. It'll be a few years yet before you are in grave danger again. Everyone else you love? Yes. You? No."

"Well, as long as it's only everyone I love," he cheeked back. "Any chance I save them?" he asked lightly.

"Well, I suppose that depends on your choices, now doesn't it?" she replied coyly. Harry was in too good a mood to notice that her face was much more serious than her tone.


	3. TP 03 Calm

**Chapter 3 - Calm**

**Submitted: Wednesday 18 January 2012**

Harry was not prepared for the onslaught of attention he received once it became public that he and Ginny were no longer together. Hecate had warned him when he last saw her that he'd have to be careful because witches would literally begin throwing themselves at him. "Harry," she had said as he walked her back to her hut, "don't be seduced. These witches don't know you for you. They are in love with your celebrity and your accomplishments. You will know when the time is right."

Wherever he went he was greeted by young and old witches alike who subconsciously mussed with their hair and offered their best smiles. Most embarrassing were occasions when married witches would visibly flirt with him in front of their very husbands. A friendship with more than one of his fellow Aurors had predictably gone icy cold once he was introduced to the wife.

He'd accidentally overheard one conversation amongst former mates a few weeks back. "I don't understand what the birds see in the boy. Scrawny little thing. Can't hold a decent conversation with a witch if she's not his best mate's girl." He'd have been angrier had he not known the bloke was just blowing off steam.

At the moment he passed the time in his cubicle doodling on a piece of parchment, "You planning on getting any work done or are you going to spend the day sketching broomsticks?"

Harry found his best mate standing over his shoulder admiring his work, "You have something better for us to do?"

"Rid the world of crime. You up for it?"

"Really?" Harry asked, "That's what you are going with? You sound like some wizard out of the comics." He shook his head in mock disgust, "I should have taken that offer to play Seeker for Puddlemore."

"Oy, I could have tended goal with the Cannons," Ron tried to use his best hurt voice.

"You could have tended goal with Puddlemore too. If I remember there were a half-dozen clubs here and across Europe that inquired."

And it was true. For the past few months they worked at the Aurors Office despite continued offers from several clubs. Puddlemore had been most insistent about Harry joining and was particularly interested in the idea of two heroes being able to shore up what they considered their only points of weakness. Harry loved the idea of playing Quidditch but he just couldn't get over the idea of making it his life.

Ron had nearly signed with the Cannons. He'd spent a month selling Harry on the idea of helping him return the club to its former glory only to change his mind himself after a private conversation with his mentor Ewan Duncan. Ewan was Auror Robard's Head of Training and was second only to Robard at the Department. He'd spent the previous year serving as Professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts as a favour to the Minister and he'd been particularly angry with Harry for not sharing the identity of the criminal that had been responsible for tormenting the students at Hogwarts and the inhabitants of the forest. Harry had defeated the wizard at the end of the term but kept his identity a secret hoping it would help restore some order and an already fragile peace.

If Harry was admired by witches throughout England, he was also feared by wizards. While a few considered the defeat of Voldemort a fluke, it was generally rumoured that Harry had defeated whatever scourge had taken the lives of several Centaurs in the forest. The fact that no-one knew exactly what that evil was made the stories all the more grand. Hannah had recounted many a conversation at the Cauldron that had begun with, "Remember, the bloke killed a basilisk his Second Year and his duel with Voldemort wasn't their first showdown..."

Thrice in the past three months wizards turned themselves in and admitted their crimes when it was made public he was assigned their case. The Ministry took advantage of this and began making public his more difficult assignments in hopes to have them resolved quickly. It wasn't as if the cases of late were Earth shattering anyway. Harry knew there were a few Death Eaters that remained in hiding but they weren't going to make themselves public without a leader. As a result, most of the Auror's crimes were simple affairs. There had only been one murder and that had been simple greed.

"I'm bored," Harry complained as they walked along Diagon Alley. "Are we really going to go check out a call over a few nicked items? Aurors don't normally handle shoplifting calls."

Ron looked at Harry with sympathy, "Mate, would you rather see the Alley looking like it did last year when we broke into Gringotts? The place is brilliant now...thanks to you no less. George has said more than once that the loans you offered the shops around town allowed them to rebuild and stay afloat." He stopped Harry, "Look Mate. I miss the adventure as much as you do but can't you enjoy just a little bit what you've helped create?"

"Of course I can," Harry said with a look of guilt, "I love this place. And I love that people are happy. That makes me no less bored..."

"I know, Mate." Ron eyed Harry with anticipation, "Hey, Mum asked me to find out if you'd be at the Burrow tomorrow night."

"Of course," Harry answered, "it's her birthday."

Ron seemed to relax a little, "Excellent, I was worried you wouldn't come. Mum's been asking me all week. She complained last weekend when you didn't go with us for dinner. You know the last time we all got together was for Hermione's birthday."

"Yes, I remember well." Harry cheeked, "I also remember an owl belonging to Seamus pecking on the window until we let it in. You never did tell us what was written on the parchment."

Ron flushed, "You needn't mind that." Harry's silence must have been too much for his mate, "He sent me a reminder, all right? He said he didn't want to see a repeat of last year and was just sending a friendly reminder."

Harry couldn't help but snigger, "Throwing a birthday party for her on the wrong day was rather amusing. Lucky for you Hermione finds your utter lack of memory for such things endearing."

"Yeah, right," dead-panned Ron. "Here we are. You want to take notes or me?"

"Ron, you're the Team Leader. You don't need to ask."

"Right. Then you take notes. I don't feel like it."

Harry just shook his head as they walked in and he smiled to himself. With Auror Duncan as his mentor, Ron had become accustomed to the role of leader and he had performed brilliantly as the head of the Auror Trainees. He still was reluctant to give Harry orders so Harry would occasionally push him along. He couldn't have people feeling like Ron treated him differently – he got enough accusations of favouritism as it was. Harry hoped the day went quickly.

ZZZZZZ

Mrs. Weasley's birthday party was just as awkward as Harry's previous visit had been. Molly had always wanted him to feel like family but no mum could be asked to choose an adopted son over an only daughter. She wanted so much to be angry with her daughter with how she treated Harry but she couldn't. The public nature of their breakup had made things no easier.

The story in the Prophet and the letter that went with it put Ginny in a very bad light. Harry, ever the gentleman, granted one interview with Witch Weekly over the matter. He insisted that Ginny had always been good to him and that he felt the move was good for her. _"She needs to concentrate on Quidditch,"_ he was quoted in the article, _"and she's correct that she needs her freedom if she is truly going to treat this opportunity for what it is. She can't be spending all of her free time worrying about me. The Harpies have made her an unbelievable offer and trusted her with an important job so for now that is her future."_

Molly sat across from Harry at the table and watched the boy carefully. He really wasn't a boy any more. He put on a good face but she knew coming back was hard for him. Occasionally he'd catch her gaze and he'd smile politely back but she could feel the ocean-sized rift that now separated them. It wasn't until she had lost him that she realised just how unfairly she had favoured him over her boys as he gradually eased his way into the family. A lesser boy would have taken advantage of the favouritism that she provided him and she knew this was why she had probably been so blind to it. No-one had made an issue of it except perhaps the occasional grumble from Ron but somehow even he'd never really provided too much of a dust-up over the whole business.

Ron had grown so much since their time away. He was advancing so quickly as an Auror. In July, an owl delivered a full slate of 'Acceptables' and even an 'Outstanding' on his NEWTs. The Outstanding had been in DADA, of course, and he showed it to anyone willing to look his way. The fact that he'd even received Acceptables in the other courses was a testament to his dedication that final term – and how much effort he'd put into his Auror training that three months before term began.

Ewan insisted that Ron was advancing as quickly as any Auror in the Trainee program and he was considering making the young bloke a team leader directly out of his training at the end of the year if he continued at the current pace. Molly nearly hexed the poor boy when he claimed he was considering playing Quidditch instead of returning to the Ministry but instead she spoke with Ewan and Duncan had saved her the trouble.

"So Mum," asked Molly's new subconscious favourite playfully, "I brought Harry home tonight. I hope you don't mind if I didn't get you anything more for your birthday."

"Oh Ron," she lied, "You didn't have to get me _anything_ for my birthday. Just you being here tonight is enough."

"Oh," Ron winked to Hermione, "then you wouldn't be interested in this little old box."

Murmurs were heard around the table. Bill and Charlie could be heard whispering some small curse and complaining gifts weren't meant for the dinner table. They both were shushed by Dad who thought it appropriate that the youngest boy was finally getting some attention. Mum and Dad had had many conversations of late about how she felt guilty for overlooking their youngest boy much of his childhood. Percy grumbled "Suck up..." George observed to Angelina, "Can't argue with Percy...he'd be the expert."

"Now, now boys..." Mum was enjoying the attention despite the grumbling, "How about we retire to the sitting room and we can open gifts there? Besides," she said meaningfully to the older boys, "if anyone was truly up to _sucking up_, as you so call it...everyone knows what your dear Mum wants every Christmas, birthday and perhaps even Easter." When the boys answered with blank stares, Hermione and Fleur sang out in chorus, "Grandchildren!" This got the desired response as the boys scrambled for the sitting room.

All of the gifts were brilliant. Once they'd been opened and the tea had been served, Percy and George excused themselves explaining that they had early mornings ahead of them. Bill left soon after with his wife and sleeping daughter but not before Winky brought their darling baby girl to Harry and whispered, "Isn't she precocious?"

"I think you mean precious, Winky," Harry smiled. "Has Fleur been practising grammar and vocabulary again with you?"

The elf nodded, "Misses Hermione's put idea in Mistress's head. Missess Weaslee now says elves is like Veelas. Mistress says Veelas didn't want to be freed at first because they didn't know better but she never would want to serve no old wizard." Winky looked at Harry guiltily, "Winky wants one."

Harry didn't understand, "A wizard?"

"A precocious little baby." She looked at Harry with such a yearning that he didn't know how to respond. "Well, then ok," he finally answered

Winky didn't think she heard him correctly at first. First she blinked. Then she winked. Or maybe it was a twitch...Harry wasn't sure. Finally she stuttered, "Master Harry allows Winky to have a baby?"

"I can't stop you. You are a free elf, Winky. If you wish to have a baby then you have my blessing." Harry wasn't sure but he'd have sworn that the final word was said to empty air. Somehow Winky had moved from next to him to Fleur in the time it took him to say 'stop' and she had handed little Victoire to her mother. By the time he was out with the word 'blessing' he heard the "Crack!" of the elf's leaving. Hermione rushed over to him and asked, "What was that about?" to which he explained. When he was done her lips pursed together in a manner that normally meant he had done something foolish.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she answered, "Except there really is no precedent. Wizard law doesn't make any differentiation between free and servant elves. The law states that it is illegal for owners to breed elves without first obtaining a permit. If a female house elf attempts to breed without permission from the owner then she is put to death. The laws were put in place to support the value of house elves and insure that the population remains in check."

Harry thought for a minute, "Well that shouldn't be too hard. It will take her a while I am sure to find an elf she likes. You basically run the Department for Magical Creatures. With Shacklebolt's blessing, how hard could it be to get a permit?"

The look on Hermione's face told him she was looking at a half-wit, "Are you kidding me Harry? It's not that simple. Even I am bound by law and I don't even come close to running the department. Before I can approve a permit I must evaluate each elf's pedigree and make sure that two elf's of similar breeding are being presented. Household elves can't be paired with outdoor elves, etcetera. I have to find a new home for the baby..."

"What?" Harry was beside himself.

"Mother's aren't allowed to raise their own elves, Harry. It keeps the baby from bonding with it's new Master. The elf is sold to the highest bidder. I have a list of different households looking for specific elves. Half of the proceeds go to each of the breeding families but twenty percent of that goes to the Department of Magical Creatures for facilitating the transaction."

"That is madness!' Harry exclaimed just a little too loudly. The others returned to their own conversations when he masked his exasperation to assure everyone that everything was ok.

Hermione couldn't help but add the dig, "Wish you had worn one of those buttons now Harry?"


	4. TP 04 The Match

**Chapter 4 – The Match**

**Submitted: Monday 23 Jan 2012 **

**Please let me know what you think of this chapter. **

Harry woke up late on Saturday and made his way down to the sitting room. This Saturday was no different than any other Saturday in the past few months. He found Hermione and Ron in their usual places. Ron's head rested on his chest and he was quietly snoring. Hermione was lying on the couch with her head propped up on Ron's leg and her nose buried in one of Dumbledore's journals. A few feet away was a desk covered in notes and a plate of biscuits. Harry made his way to the tea service and once he confirmed the tea was still warm he poured himself a cup.

"You should try the butter biscuits, Harry," Hermione observed without looking up. "They are incredible."

"Any progress?" Harry asked.

"I read through the entire journal from 1918 and didn't find a thing. I'm reading 1919 now." Hermione sat up as Harry plopped down into an overstuffed chair, "He really was brilliant, Harry. Dumbledore was beginning to explore how magic could theoretically relate to nuclear mechanics and how an understanding of Muggle physics could allow a wizard to perform even more powerful magic."

"Blimey, Hermione. What are you talking about?"

"Harry, you'd really find it fascinating if you only understood...The whole reason he had begun to focus on Transfiguration was that he was interested in transforming particles on an atomic and subatomic level."

"Huh?"

Hermione sucked in her cheeks, "Really Harry? This is basic physics. How can we discuss this if you don't even know what atoms are?" Hermione spent the next twenty minutes explaining that all things were made of atoms and that all atoms had three basic building blocks. "I really can't believe that you didn't learn this already," Hermione lamented as she finished.

"I never read books outside of our lessons," Harry answered defensively. "I was interested in being a wizard – not a physician."

Hermione gaped at Harry but then chose to ignore his mistake, "Well, I've decided to attend Cambridge beginning with the Lent Term," Hermione replied. "I asked around and the Ministry is going to help me with admission. I've been assured I can sit whatever lessons I'd like provided I'm qualified. Only a few lessons at first but I will add a full slate if I find that I am able."

Harry wasn't shocked. Leave it to Hermione to want to attend more school, "The Ministry will let you do that? Won't it affect your position?"

Hermione smirked, "My guess is that they agreed to it for that very reason. There are those under the delusion that this will distract me and keep me from setting my department on its ear. Little do they know..."

Eventually the conversation died down and Hermione returned to her reading while Harry reviewed a ledger that had been provided by Gringotts. Harry could review his vault holdings, the value of each of his investments and how profitable they were on a daily, monthly or yearly basis. The numbers would magically adjust...some every few minutes...some every few hours. Harry imagined that if he cared he could become mesmerised as the amount of Galleons gradually rose in his vault account – and on the ledger in front of him. Ron had more than once watched the ledger in awe and commented, "Have you actually watched this? It's as if they are just pouring bags of Galleons into your vault."

"Harry!" Hermione's excitement shook him out of his bored stupor. Ron shook awake as well.

"What?" asked both wizards at once.

"I think I found it - what Dumbledore was referring to." Hermione began to read aloud:

30 May 1919

_Yesterday Eddington finally confirmed Einstein's prediction that light bends. This is truly fantastic. I had already begun experiments with how to use these new insights magically as far back as 1916 (see journal). I have also begun experiments in magic on a very small scale. I have become fascinated by subatomic structure and how I might be able to Transfigure individual atoms into gold. Nicolas Flamel..._

Harry interrupted Hermione confused, "What does this have to do with Hecate?"

Hermione flushed, "Oh, sorry. That's further down. I was reading the entire entry."

_I recently purchased a book that reminded me of Gellert. **Greek Myths and the Events that Shaped Them. **Gellert and I had discussed tracking down ancient artefacts of Greece once we had obtained the Deathly Hallows. One such set of ancient Greece was the Girdle belonging to Aphrodite, the Necklace to her daughter Harmonia and the Bow that had belonged to her son Eros – all fashioned by the great wizard smith Haephestus. Gellert used to make jokes about finding the bow and randomly firing arrows at Muggles throughout Muggle England. He'd point to obvious opposites walking the streets and draw an invisible drawstring with a mischievous smile and ask "what if?" _

_According to book, the Necklace of Harmonia might still be hidden away. So many other artefacts were passed down from mother to daughter or father to son and have disappeared. The necklace was a gift to the daughter of the witch Aphrodite by her husband. This gift held a veiled curse as he had found out that Aphrodite had been unfaithful with a wizard by the name of Ares and that the child Harmonia actually belonged to her lover. According to the legend, any woman wearing it would remain eternally young and beautiful. The reality was that it often brought great misfortune to its owner. _

_The book refers over and over again to an ancient temple that offers hints and clues to the whereabouts of this necklace. It doesn't say specifically the name of the temple but by the descriptions offered I'm quite certain the hints meant something to someone. I expect to have some time during the upcoming holiday and barring something unexpected I'd like to make the trip..._

Harry was concerned, "There's no way Dumbledore was referring to the necklace, was he? It said the necklace brings about bad luck to the wearer. It was cursed."

"I have to think it is," Hermione thought aloud. "Maybe there is more about it in another entry. He wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't think it was useful."

Ron was still shaking the sleep away and when he stretched his feet they nearly reached Harry's a chair away, "Is this about that _bird_ Hecate you lot go on about all the time?"

Hermione picked up a half-empty cup of now cold tea, "Ron, if you continue to sound like Seamus then you are bound to look like him soon enough."

Ron placed a nervous hand between him and Hermione's cup, "Okay, okay, okay...I surrender."

* * *

><p>The final match fall Quidditch season was to be played this afternoon. Already the League Championship had been played and the Harpies had not been in it. Most Gryfindors had claimed when Ginny's signing had been confirmed that she'd place them at the top of the points total by end of the season. It was the new Spanish Chaser that had made the most impact though. Ginny had done well, catching nearly three quarters of the snitches during the second half of the season, but Isa was unstoppable.<p>

Ginny had been fit in during the Summer Break.

Beginning in 1998, play began in February as it always had but with a few changes. With thirteen teams in the British and Irish Quidditch League, they all played once a week for twenty four weeks. This allowed them to play each other twice. At the end of Spring Play, as they now called it, the points were tallied. A break was taken mid-August to mid September as rarely families showed to the games – distracted by shopping and planning for school.

The second weekend after the Hogwarts Express was boarded, the league resumed with a new twist – referred to as **Competitive Play**. Teams had an opportunity to add players from other leagues and from Hogwarts itself...no Hogwarts students from the previous year were allowed to play until after Competitive Play began. At this point the League was separated into the Championship Division and the Points Division. Each club began with no points as the six most competitive teams played each other once. At the end of "round robin" the two teams with the most points played for the championship. Teams three and four played and teams five and six played.

The second division, the Points Division, sounded like a boring wind down to the season. Not the case. Because there were seven teams there was no Championship match. Each team played round robin through the new six week mini season. The three teams that ended on the bottom end of the division were relegated to a six team league that had recently taken legal action to be added to the British and Irish Quidditch League (BIQL). The top three teams from this second league switched places with the bottom three teams from the Points Division the following year and were allowed for at least one year to play in the superior league.

A very large sum was wagered that the Cannons would be one of the first teams moved to the Everyman's Quidditch League, or EQuaL as they liked to call themselves. Ron preferred to call them the Consortium of Really Awful Players and used the appropriate acronym for them quite often. The Cannons somehow missed being sent down to EQL by a grand total of ten points. Russ Henry pulled the snitch out of thin air in the final match and Ron celebrated the entire night following the club's miraculous tenth place finish.

The Harpies were never in any threat to be sent to EQL. They had placed third in the Championship Division as Isa set the league on fire. It was not a bad showing considering they began as the sixth entry to the Division at the end of August. Ginny was the final difference maker as she caught snitch after snitch once she was added to the team for that final stretch run. They played the final week ranked fourth but beat the third ranked club and moved up a spot in the final standings.

Which brought everyone to today. Harry was taking one last look at his broom before he and his mate stepped out for the upcoming match. He and Ron had been convinced by a young witch in the Auror Department to "do their part." She was the wife of a very high up member of the BIQL and it had been decided that the week following the Championship that a benefit match would be played between the top two rookies at each position.

Unfortunately, with the dearth of new talent due to the war, there were shortages at many positions. Harry and Ron were asked to play their positions respectively as much to sell tickets as to round out the rookie talent pool. "We'll be crushed," Ron complained. Harry was more practical if not optimistic, "They won't notice much if I miss out on the snitch – it'll be expected. You on the other hand, will probably suffer a bloodbath like has never been seen." Ron sniffed out Harry's bait and didn't bite, "Thanks Mate for your tremendous display of confidence." Just for that, Ron never bothered to inform Harry that he'd likely be facing his sister.

Until they signed the agreement that was. Even Ron was amazed at how adept the league officials were at keeping Harry's opponent out of his mind's eye until the paperwork had been completed. When the hammer fell Ron was not disappointed by the look on his mate's face. "What? Harry shouted. How come you didn't tell me?" he shouted when they let the name of his opposing seeker slip out.

"We thought you'd have known from the beginning," lied Ernest, "There's only two rookie Seekers this season and Cho was injured mid-season. Head of Community Relations for the BIQL. "It's for the children. You can't back out now." his toothy smile made Harry think of Quilvash and he had a good mind to give this wizard similar treatment. Upon further thought, Harry considered he may need to seek some help in anger management, "It's always for the children. Why can't I just donate a few Galleons and be done with it?"

"We've already begun to sell tickets Harry. And really, there isn't a name that will carry as well as yours. This year has been so slow that we didn't sell out a single game...including the Championship. People are still recovering and Quidditch just hasn't seemed as important as late. People want to see this matchup. You might be able to return some excitement back to the sport."

And apparently they _were_ planning to use him prominently in selling the match. Within a week, posters hung all around Diagon Alley and in wizard shops all around the Isles showing Harry and Ginny facing off. Not one mention of another participant was even bothered with. The publicity and hype of the two was so great that when the actual professionals met them in the changing rooms before the match, the reception was icy cold. A Chaser for the Tornados named Tosh said it best, "How I got paired up with you I have no idea. I could have sworn I was the top rated at my position for my year. She's going to spin you on your broom so badly that you won't know which way your flying by the second hour."

Harry was afraid of just that. He'd flown with friends in his spare time for the past two weeks. Two weeks were not enough, though, to adequately prepare against a proper Quidditch professional. Really, Harry thought to himself, no amount of time was. And Ginny was considered better than good. Even as a First Year she and Isa had lit a fire under the Harpies. In fact, there were many expecting that if she and Isa stayed at the clubhouse over the winter and trained that the Harpies would be favoured to win it all the following year.

Harry took his place on the pitch and waited for the whistle to be blown. Tosh and Reynolds, a Bat, were glaring at him. His opponents were doing the same. Ginny looked at everyone but him and took on an air of indifference. The whistle blew.

Harry was surprised that Ginny didn't take to the air quite so quickly as Harry. At Hogwarts it had been a rush to see who could get highest fastest. Ginny, though, was already watching for the snitch even now. A bludger came Harry's way and he easily ducked.

Harry chanced a glance at Ron and he seemed calm enough at the moment. Thankfully no mention of sick yet from the announcer. The announcer, in fact happened to be Lee Jordan. Already Ron had made a save but Isa had stolen the quaffle from his team and she was making a second charge at Ron. A second bludger kept Harry from seeing whether she scored or not but the roar of the crowd told him the play had been noteworthy.

This went on for an hour or so. Harry didn't bother to watch the score closely but on occasion he would get a recap and update from Lee. "Ron Weasley has made another quality save and the Blue Chasers seem rather frustrated. The only one with any success has been Isa and her six scores have the Blue Team up by forty. So far, no sign of the snitch and apparently neither Potter nor Weasley have any desire to search for it together."

In fact, from the standpoint of the hype this started as a rather boring match. The action below was enthralling with Isa making charge after charge on Weasley's red goal but Weasley would not surrender an inch. What Harry could not see from above was that the pressure was beginning to get to Ron. Finally, with the last shot of the second hour Lee had something to talk about.

Isa is charging the net once again. The Cannon Chaser, McCarney, is giving his Red team-mates fits with his handling of the quaffle. Isa picked it away from him and she is moving left – no, right – no she fakes and charges straight ahead. Ron, erm Weasley, doesn't bite on the fake. He makes a spin move and catches the quaffle with the tips of his fingers. Ohhhh...you are in for a treat. If what I see from here is correct. He's green...he's mean...he's sick! Ron Weasley is _sick!_ The Blues are in trouble now. Weasley has stood on his head all match and now he has turned in his trademark. Oh No! Don't Ron!"

Ron had gotten sick on his hands when he caught the quaffle. Without thinking he threw the quaffle out absent-mindedly to a team mate and Tosh, seeing what happened, avoided the quaffle like the plague. Out of instinct Isa charged and caught it preparing for another chance at the goal. The slime was felt and a scream rang through the stadium like none heard before. She threw the quaffle to the ground and charged after Ron cursing at him in Spanish. The referee called time out and sick was banished from the ground and the quaffle. Lee spent the next three minutes laughing at Ron as the angry Spaniard refused to back down and continued to blast him in her native tongue. Ron looked at Tosh and shrugged askance. His team-mate laughed and replied, "I think she's asking you out." Ron, not getting the sarcasm, looked her dead in the eye and said as slow and loud as he could "I AM ALREADY WITH SOMEONE..."

The slap could be heard around the pitch and the laughter that followed would ring in Ron's ears for quite some time. It was then that Ron was most thankful that wizard matches were not televised.

Isa was issued a warning but even the referee understood this was a benefit game and it'd do no good to kick one of the stars off the pitch. Soon after, play was resumed and Harry was again looking for the snitch. He'd kept and eye on Ginny hoping she'd give it away if she saw it. As he took one last look toward her he noticed she was looking at him. Well, not quite him so much as the snitch which must have been precisely halfway between them. Seeing that he saw that she saw him seeing the snitch, she decided to make a rush for it. He too made the rush. Neither seemed concerned for safety. He could tell she had grown much quicker and agile on her broom – probably Griffith's doing.

Just as they got near the snitch it shot out from between them with a velocity Harry had never seen before. Harry tried to miss Ginny and she did the same but he landed a glancing blow. Both twisted away spinning at odd angles but Ginny recovered more quickly and was already shooting after the snitch.

By now the crowd was watching the action up in the air rather than what was going on closer to the ground. This was what they came to see. Many had hoped to see slapping and angry words throughout the match. Only now had the couple even come within a dozen broom-lengths of each other. Harry had recovered and he saw Ginny was zig-zagging with a careful eye after the snitch. The snitch was like lightning compared to what he was used to and he realised that it was probably much faster to compensate for all of the Firebolts flown in the league. Had he listened to the weekly sports shows on the Wizard Wide Network, he'd have known that this was why the experts gave him no chance to win. He'd never encountered a snitch this fast and since his Third Year he'd always flown a superior broom to his competition. "It's no wonder he caught the snitch so many times," many experts lamented.

As the snitch began to turn back on itself it gave Harry a chance to catch up. Ginny was desperately trying to get to the snitch before Harry got within range. If he'd been able to read her mind he have known that she was desperately worried he'd out-fly her and she'd have all winter to listen to how she wasn't even as good as her old boyfriend. She'd worked so hard to make her own name and now the wizard she loved more than anything was going to unravel everything she'd worked so hard for. All of the respect she'd earned this season could easily evaporate with one mistake.

So when Harry caught up to her she couldn't help but cut her words with venom, "You couldn't stay away, could you? You had to take the opportunity to show me up?" Both were at top speed and her mouth hurt around the sides as she spoke. The snitch made a sudden dip and both flawlessly dipped with it.

"No," Harry replied defensively. His mouth hurt too and the distraction of talking made him nearly miss the snitch's sudden jerk to the right. Ginny looped under him as she turned and she took position on his right side – now holding a strong advantage over him. "Honestly I didn't know you were flying when I signed up."

He could see her eyes in his peripheral vision and they didn't believe a word he was saying. She tried to keep position on Harry but despite her superior training he was the better instinctive flyer. Unfortunately for her, all her training taught her enough to know this. Harry had always been better – he was the best. She doubted any amount of training would ever make her as good as him unless he let himself go and out of shape.

Griffiths had always said an instinctive flyer would always have the edge over superior training and she'd said since their first session that as long as Harry didn't join the league she had better natural instincts than any Seeker currently in the league. "Except Old Sellers. If he weren't so old he'd make you pay every match but he's now slowed enough that you got a fighter's chance. At one point Sellers could flat out fly. He sent Krum home crying during the European Finals about six or so years back."

Ginny was searching for ways to keep her edge. They'd never had the opportunity to fly like this during practise at Hogwarts – the snitch was too slow. Now they turned left and right and jolted up and down seamlessly with the snitch. The snitch seemed to be able to feel the energy from the crowd but the two of them were so focused on each other that they heard not a noise other than the wings of the snitch. Harry was still just out of position but at the rate the snitch was moving they had a good five minutes of flat out flying before they could get close enough for it to matter.

Thrice they'd ducked bludgers. Twice they'd ducked around scaffolding as the snitch took them near the ground. Each jerk of the snitch made them move in such a way that the crowd would have sworn that they were dancing. They weren't watching each other but they were intensely aware of each other's movements.

Both had a hand out. Both grabbed for the snitch. Both were just as close and could have gotten it. There were no bludgers to interfere. There were no sudden turns or wild gymnastics or improvisational manoeuvres. It was not caught with the mouth or the armpit or the edge of ones robe. That being said, the crowd went wild from the sheer display of skill and wild flying that they saw in that final fifteen minutes.

For a solid week the match was spoken about on the Wizard Wide Network and in pubs around wizard England. Glynnis Griffiths, the legendary seeker for the Harpies and the current manager for the Harpies could not ever recall seeing such a fascinating match and duel and she was not surprised one bit that neither of them had been criticised for their play. One writer for Quidditch Weekly went so far as to write:

_Yesterday Ginny Weasley showed why she is already one of the top Seekers in professional Quidditch. Her quickness and concentration are unmatched. Oh, she has a few things to learn before being truly dominant on a match by match basis but there is no-one in professional Quidditch today that would not choose her first if building Quidditch squad. Mrs. Griffiths has outdone herself in finding and a raw Chaser and transforming her into a unique talent in little less than a year. __That said, Mr. Potter has made us question why he elected not to enter the professional ranks. Were he to play Quidditch professionally, he would simply transform the sport. Congratulations to two brilliant competitors and I thank you both for providing the best Seekers' duel that this writer has ever seen._

Those that read the article did a double take when they reached the end. Nowhere...not in the headline, the introduction or the end...did it mention who actually caught the snitch or won the match.


	5. TP 05 The Story of Ares and Aphrodite

**Chapter 5 – The Story of Ares and Aphrodite**

**Submitted: Saturday 28 January 2012 **

**A/N: I am now ahead by four chapters and I am currently writing about their first trip to Greece. The trip is not far off so please keep an eye out. Please let me know what you think with a Review. Reviews good and bad motivate me to write...which is why I was able to finish three chapters in a week.**

As Harry stepped into the sitting room he first made his way to the fire. He noticed that, like every Saturday, Kreacher had already prepared a tea service but that the normal tray of biscuits had been replaced by cucumber sandwiches. This was due to the fact that Ron was sitting with his brothers Bill and George who had teamed up to challenge him at chess. Challenge was probably too strong a word – at the moment the two were arguing the best option to avoid a pin of their king and a rook by Ron's leading knight.

Hermione was curled in a chair with a book while Angelina and Fleur heckled their adoring wizards. Fleur was having the better time of it, "Mon amour, eet might do you well to move your king to zee side." Bill took the bait by searching for the move she was referring to and she pulled on the line. She made a motion with her hand, "As in rest dee king on eet's side, mon cheri. Ron ees about to take your queen."

"No he's not," Bill shook his head as he moved the rook out of a potential pin.

"Actually, yes I am." Ron gloated as he placed a pin on Bill's queen and king with his bishop from the opposite corner of the board. "Check!"

Bill's king took a knee and implored Fleur, "Fair Lady, thine husband appears an easy mark and his kin is little better. Would thy consider sitting in his place? Though ye be French, thine fortunes could not be worse."

Bill's queen belted his king on the head with the flat of her blade, "Knave! I see through thine shallow attempts at treachery. Remove thine eyes from her blouse this instant and return to the match. Her bed is plenty filled and thou shan't change that with any amount of flattery."

George placed his arm on his brother's shoulder, "It seems our king is conspiring against us. What say you we retire to the basement and build ourselves a turkey sandwich. The cucumber isn't quite doing it for me.

"Me neither," Bill agreed. As he turned his king on his side he laughingly announced, "You're a rogue, king. You are safe from my ire, Sir, but your wife may have something to say once the table is cleared." He winked at his wife, "But if you were indeed planning treachery she is certainly worth it." He got up and she met him at the door with a lingering kiss, whispering, "You may bee rubbish at chess but you shall alwees be my Roi. Go make your sandweeches. You weell need ze energee."

"You wish to take the lift down with me?" Bill asked with a grin.

"You are sech a bad boyee, mon amour. 'Arry would ban us from thees fine 'ouse eef wee were to do such a theeng - again." What she whispered in his ear next no-one heard but he left quickly with an obvious blush and Fleur returned to her seat next to Angelina. Her mate and future sister-in-law looked at him with mock jealousy, "Fleur, I'd say that George and I share more affection than most but you and Bill put us all to shame."

"Eet ees because wee must feet all of our love in veree small amounts of time. Hee eez gone so much of zee time." Fleur looked over at Harry appraisingly, "Arry," she patted the couch between Angelina and herself, "Come seet, mon cheri. Wee would like to deescuss a mattuer with you."

Harry was still near the fire and at the moment he was watching a few boys playing football in the street outside below. Fleur's invitation took him out of his trance and he acquiesced. As he sat down between the two young witches, Ron sat next to Hermione and began to rub her socked feet. He was rewarded with a purr.

Fleur got Harry's attention back to her, "Arry, do you plan to...what you say...? date...? Soon?"

Angelina's grin gave them away, "You've been ambushed Harry. I don't think you are going to get out of this without an answer."

Harry didn't really like to talk about Ginny or his plans – mainly because he didn't have any. He'd pretty much closed down this portion of his life and seeing Ginny two months before at the match had only encouraged him to do so more. He had every intention of waiting until Ginny returned. Hoping it would help him out of the conversation he turned Angelina, "You know how I feel about Ginny. What do you think? Do you think there is something worth waiting for with her?"

Angelina frowned, "I haven't seen her since October but she attended the End of Season Banquet with a bloke from Puddlemore. She hasn't said anything specific about being serious but they seemed rather close. She's said after the whole dust-up with the Prophet something like, 'Well, it appears that ends that.' I think she's done Harry."

Fleur would have felt pity if it had lasted more than a second – Harry looked wounded. He recovered though and a decisiveness came across his face that Angelina had seen only a time or two, "That answers your question Fleur. I shall begin dating. I don't know when the first one will be or who it will be with but it's time to move on."

Trying to bring levity back to the conversation Fleur offered, "That shall make my leetle seester veree 'appee. You do know shee comes of age next yeer. You'd better watch out, Arry, she will be here thees 'oliday and shee shall make 'er best effort." The tone the Veela took was very light but Harry knew there was some truth in there somewhere. He tried to lighten up as well, "Well, if she is serious she'll have to wait a while. She's still a little girl."

Fleur had a gleam in her eye, "Ohhh, Arry, you 'ave not seen 'er in more than a yeer. She ees now a woman een everee way. Eeven at a quarter Veela we deevelop veree early. Een my home countree wee are conseedered of age at sixteen."

"Fleur, I don't care how much she's 'developed.' I will always remember the little eleven year old that I pulled out of the lake. It would feel creepy...I'd feel creepy."

"All due reespect, 'Arry. Physically you are a man but eemotionally, with reelationships, leetle Gabrielle is older than you.. Not many witches your age weell have the patience to wait for you to grow up een that way. But there ees steell time. You should look een everee place beefore taking anyone too seriouslee." By the way Angelina nodded she seemed to agree with Fleur's assessment. Ron was still rubbing his girlfriend's feet and they too seemed convinced by Fleur's argument. Fleur finished, "I am not saying you _should_ date my seester Arry but I am saying you could do worse. Beefore you dug your 'eels in I was only saying that shee has 'er eyes on you. Whatever you do pleeze do no 'urt her. Let 'er down eesy."

Hermione changed the subject, "Harry, I found another book that described that necklace. After reading the witch version I think there was a huge misconception as to the true curse on the necklace. I could read it to you if you'd like. There is a story about the whole affair between Aphrodite and Ares. It's about two pages long."

Harry shrugged. He leaned back to listen and noticed Fleur still had his arm. Hermione thumbed through the pages, "All right, I'm just going to read it straight through:"

_Translated from a Roman manuscript dated 886 AUC – **Updates in bold are from 11 Nov 1954 **_

_The story of the Necklace of Harmonia begins with the story of her mother Aphrodite. Many of the stories associated with Greek witches and wizards, much like the Romans and the Egyptians, evolved into stories making them into gods. This is because many of them allowed themselves to be deified in order to keep and expand their influence and power in Greece. Later the practise would be discouraged and from the time of the rise of Athens and the powerful city-states the witches and wizards would be referred to merely as tyrants. This is because much of the leadership of Athens was made up of wizards._

_It is uncertain where Aphrodite was born and there are several conflicting stories. When asked she would answer, 'I was born of the foam of the sea. I was born of no man.' More likely, she was born **sometime between 1478 BC to 1398 BC** in Cyprus as there are many claims to this. More important than where she was from were the stories of her famed beauty and the children she had out of wedlock. In fact, her trysts became so common and created so much discord among the wizards of Mycenae that the great wizard Zeus eventually gave her the option of being married or being banished "to live with the barbarians."_

_Zeus would have had better luck had he insisted she marry a man more easy to look at. Aphrodite was given to Hephaestus who at the time was world renowned for the magical artefacts that he fashioned from metal and fine stones. In fact, he was so well known for his magical weapons, armour and jewellery that he became known as the patron god of smiths, metallurgists and other tradesmen that worked with their hands. Zeus, in order to curry favour with the great smith, offered Aphrodite to him._

_Unfortunately, Hephaestus was lame of foot and this was considered a very undesirable quality in Mycenae. Aphrodite tried to honour her vows but she soon began consorting with other men. Whether it was out of vengeance toward Zeus or out of attraction for such a fierce man, Aphrodite was drawn to Ares - a son of Zeus and his wife Hera. Not long after her marriage, she had a tryst with the great warrior and he left her with child._

_It did not take Hephaestus long to recognise that the young girl born to him and his wife was not his. He'd suspected that Aphrodite had lain with Ares and when Harmonia was born she shared many features with him. Hephaestus was patient and waited until Harmonia's wedding day years later to exact his revenge. The lame smith fashioned a beautiful necklace of stones and gold and gave it to her future husband Cadmus for him to give to Harmonia as a wedding gift. Plebes Muggles have many myths they attribute to the necklace but what is known among wizards is this. The necklace makes its wearer beautiful and young for as long as it is worn. It's greatest curse is what it appears to do when true love is felt for the one wearing it._

_At that moment of true love's kiss, and no-one can guess when that kiss will come, whatever the young witch's suitor wishes for most dearly will certainly come true. Many tragedies have been attributed to the necklace but the real reason that it is no longer worn is that many dark secrets lie in a man's heart. The wishes of men that courted the owner's of the necklace have included full servitude of the woman toward her man, a life as a heroic warrior, the desire of a simple life without children...and more._

_Hephaestus is said to have smithed more significant magical relics of the ancient Mycenaens than all of the smiths of Greece combined. Most wizards did not use wands so artefacts were more common. Hephaestus had a knack for creating relics that would help focus a wizard's magical energy – through a sword or shield or though some object that the wizard or witch would exhibit their talent. For example, Eros had a bow, Zeus had a device that appeared to fire lightning bolts, Posiedon had his trident and Athena had her sword. Only the occasional witch such as Circe carried a wand at the time because it was not yet known that the natural qualities of the wood became a better conductor and focus for magic._

_By now it has become understood that a small presence is necessary to keep the Plebes **(Muggles)** from mistrusting us. While many of the Greek myths have been recycled by ourselves to teach our society right from wrong, very seldom do we as Roman wizards make ourselves obvious to the public. We are seen and while we do offer the occasional magic we try to keep it to a minimum._

_The location of the Necklace itself has been up to debate. It is said that the Necklace is located somewhere in the Roman Empire but that if one wanted to find it then they must begin at the beginning. According to all accounts of the location the first key to finding the Necklace would be to search in the temple that started it all. Once you enter the temple you will want to search in that place that everyone seeks for answers. Only those with humility will find what they are looking for._

**_Is this the very first temple according to Greek myth? The first temple to Harmonia? The temple to Hephaestus?_**

Hermione closed the book, "I think you get the idea. Dumbledore seems to think this necklace will return Hecate's beauty – at least while she wears it. My guess is that he thinks that if her boyfriend knows that she is disfigured that he will wish that her beauty would return permanently. I'm not so sure I agree with him," she frowned.

"Why ees that?" Fleur asked curiously.

Hermione's face darkened. "Obviously Hephaestus knew something about the secret thoughts of man." She gestured to her boyfriend who was still rubbing her feet, "I love Ron more than anything but I know that we all have secret desires that are not as virtuous as we'd like to admit. I think Hephaestus was right. Even if a man was to fall in love with Hecate he'd likely wish for something entirely self-serving and it would end in sadness for her."

Ron looked up, "That's pessimistic."

Hermione shrugged.

"Who ees thees Hecatee?" asked Fleur.

"Don't expect a straightforward answer from them," grumbled Ron. "She's a witch that lives somewhere on the Hogwarts grounds. She was disfigured during the Battle of Hogwarts and the two of them have been looking for a way to help her ever since."

George popped back in soon after, "Harry, you'd think Kreacher was a free elf. You should have heard him grumbling when Bill didn't thank him for his sandwich."

"I was distracted. He'll get over it."

"All the same, Bill," George replied, "if your ears shrink then you know who's responsible."

"Kreacher has seemed more uppity lately," Ron observed.

Hermione pulled her feet away from Ron, "Harry, you should speak with him just to make sure he's all right. It's not like he has anyone to speak to."

Harry wasn't thrilled with the idea of asking Kreacher about his feelings but he too had noticed that Kreacher had been much moodier the past few weeks. He'd also noticed random bandages as well. He decided he'd speak to Kreacher soon.

Angelina was still thinking about Harry, "Harry, back to the idea of dating. Would you be up to the idea of being matched up? I know of a young witch that might be perfect for you."

"Does she enjoy silence?" quipped Ron, "If she goes out with Harry she'll get plenty of it."

Ron was met with a room full of laughter and a swat to the head. He grimaced and as he rubbed his tender scalp he observed that while Hermione may love him...she was much more protective of her best mate.


	6. TP 06 Harry Opens Up

**Chapter 6 – Harry Opens Up**

**Submitted: Monday 30 January 2012 **

Harry was deeply disturbed. He sat at the bar with a smoking glass of firewhiskey - staring at the bottle of Ogden's that it had come from. It did not take Hannah long to notice Harry's blank stare and she returned with a stool. Tonight was not normal – normally the Cauldron was full of customers. Since Hannah had taken over the pub it had taken on even more dining business due to her exceptional cooking. She had a nearly full-house of boarders and the upstairs had been magically expanded earlier in the year to accommodate the added demand. Tonight though even those regular diners were absent.

Hannah sat on the stool opposite of Harry, carefully trying to divine his thoughts, "I heard that Ginny decided not to return home at the end of the season. She decided that she needed to concentrate on her game?" Harry only nodded. Hannah frowned, "I'm sorry Harry. I'd heard about that bloke from Puddlemore. The way it sounded she didn't take well to you competing against her in that match."

"No, she didn't," Harry finally answered.

"Harry, I'm so sorry that things didn't work out for the two of you. You know she still loves you. I can feel it."

"Hannah, I'm fine with it. Really. I love her and it hurts but...I get the feeling she needs to do this alone. I've been told that at least for now I should move on. Really, I hadn't thought about it much the past week or so."

Hannah was confused, "So, if your not upset about Ginny then why are you in here by yourself?"

Harry sighed, "You remember Kreacher?" She nodded. "Well, I promised Hermione a few weeks back that I'd talk to him because he's been acting oddly. I put it off or forgot about it or ignored it...until today when I found him beating himself over the head with a pot when I dropped into the kitchen for breakfast. Of course I stopped him..." Harry's voice trailed off and he stared down at his drink.

"But?"

"But I should have talked to him sooner. He's blamed himself this whole time."

"For?"

Harry blinked. He looked around the bar and seemed to notice something that was previous lost on him, "I haven't seen much of Neville lately. He was only in the office two days this week."

"He's on another trip with Luna. She's cataloguing magical creatures to see if Muggles are 'endangering' them as their cities continue to expand. Neville's taken on a side job with an apothecary to gather some of the rare herbs that they can't seem to grow themselves. He also picks a few herbs for Professor Sprout. She doesn't get off school grounds like she used to now that she is the Assistant to the Headmaster."

Harry smirked for once and she swatted him on the hand, "Don't give me that look. You know as well as I do that he'd never do such a thing and she'd never let him. Besides, they've had Rufus go with them on the past few trips. Luna's grown rather fond of Rufus and I think they are secretly li..." Hannah bit her lip, "Anyway, they're all three out in the wilderness."

Harry ignored Hannah's slip of the tongue, "It sounds like it won't be too long before Neville is back to Herbology full time."

Hannah was thankful. It wasn't like her to blather out other people's secrets, "He only joined the Aurors to help round up the rest of the Death Eaters. The only reason he is still there is that he thought it would be a good idea to finish his training in case there was an emergency and he needed to rejoin. He believes that the threat is over but he's not naïve enough to think that there won't be another. He figured with only a year left of training it would be worth it to finish. The Ministry agreed and barring something unforeseen he plans to move on as soon as his training is complete.

"That's a good idea," admitted Harry. He really hadn't talked to much about the future with Neville. They all got together when they could but Hannah didn't take off often seeing as that she was gradually expanding the pub that she had bought just before her marriage to Neville. "I really wish we'd see more of you at the house. We have people over nearly every weekend and I'd be happy to save a room for you if you wanted to stay over while Neville is away. It wouldn't be so lonely."

"Lonely? Harry, I have so many friends that I've made here. Think about it," she shrugged and gestured to the pub, "tonight is quiet but I nearly always have regulars here. My regulars have become like family and I have boarders as well. Besides, my goal is to grow the pub now while we are young and he spends so much time away. We plan to have children in a few years and by then I'll have enough business that I can hire someone to manage the place."

"You couldn't do that now?"

Hannah smiled, "I know you've seen the books Harry. Of course I could do it now. But I know exactly how I want things done and right now I have the energy to do it. This is my passion and I want to have the fun of doing it myself." Hannah paused and look at Harry carefully, "But enough about me. Tell me why Kreacher was so upset with himself that he'd beat himself with a pan."

"If I tell you the story you must promise not to share it with anyone. I still haven't figured out what to do and if the story gets out it could cause a lot of trouble."

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Kreacher was busy mopping the floors in the hallway when she arrived. Despite images that most had of an elf sweating on his or her hands and knees, Kreacher was merely standing as if he were meditating with his eyes closed. The mops looked much like floor mops except with no handle. Another instrument would occasionally wet the floor near the mop with soapy water. Lastly, a swish of water would travel across the floor like a small tidal wave in order to rinse the floor properly and another swish of dry air would swirl like a tornado just inches off the floor to dry it properly.

A minute later when he finished he acknowledged the junior elf, "Does young Winky have a question for Kreacher?"

The younger elf curtsied to her elder. It was acknowledged that their was a general hierarchy amongst the elves even if they did not formally organise a government for themselves. It seemed pointless for the elves to organise in any fashion if they had no rights. All the same, unspoken rules were fashioned over the ages to deal with all manner of practical issues. Wizards would have called the rules etiquette but the elves felt more strongly about them and they found unique ways of enforcing them outside of the purview of the humans that called themselves Master.

Winky was always careful to treat Kreacher, her elder, with respect. Not only was he her elder in a manner of years but he also served a superior House. While Winky also served Harry she was still considered a free elf and this brought shame to her in most circles of elves. Kreacher, otherwise, had served two great houses. He first served the house of Black and then served the house of Potter. Elves had a funny way of deciding on the hierarchy of houses and while the Potter House had recently been considered a minor house, Harry's role as a hero had done much to increase Kreacher's social standing.

Hierarchy had to do with the perceived power of a house. The Malfoy's, for instance, had dropped considerably as had the houses of many former Death Eaters. Others such as the Titterbottoms had rocketed as the patriarch of the family became the new Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamut.

Winky and Kreacher apparated to the kitchen below and Winky sat on one of the benches at the breakfast bar with her feet dangling like a small child's. Kreacher sat as well but she noted that he seemed to have more dignity. Winky decided she was speaking to the right elf.

"What troubles Winky?" asked Kreacher in his bullfrog voice.

Winky whisked her fingers and a few drinks appeared before the two elves, "Master Harry is very kind to Winky. Kinder than Winky deserves. Master Harry has given Winky freedom."

"Yes," agreed Kreacher. "Master Potter has made Winky a free elf but Winky was already a free elf. Winky was shamed when made a free elf by her Master Crouch. Master Potter has taken the shame but Winky remains a free elf."

"No," Winky insisted, "Master Harry has made Winky more free. Winky has questions. Would Master Kreacher have a drink and help Winky with answers."

"Master Kreacher has much to do. Master Kreacher is no young elf and it takes longer to do Kreacher's work. A good House Elf does not have 'drinks.' A good House Elf finishes his work."

"Please?" begged Winky. "Winky won't drink alone but Winky needs help. Winky has questions but Winky is shamed by questions."

Kreacher blinked. Winky had always been a strange sort of elf. It had to do with her disgrace at the hands of the Crouch's. The elves at Hogwarts knew that she had not been at fault but she had lost her place all the same. Kreacher imagined that becoming a free elf might make an elf insane in the end. Even the elves at Hogwarts had a master. The Headmaster was ultimately the master of all of the elves at Hogwarts and indirectly they served the staff and children of Hogwarts much like a family elf would serve a spouse or child of the family.

Kreacher sipped his drink to be polite. He nearly fell off of his chair when Winky explained that she had been given permission to have her own baby and to raise it. He took a big drink of the vinegar that had been placed before him. Vinegar was the drink of choice for house elves. A single glass could put a house elf like Kreacher under the table but he thought nothing of it. No elf had been given permission to have a child outside of the regimented breeding of the humans to his knowledge – ever. Winky asked questions about how to choose a mate and how to approach them. Kreacher listened and answered best he could but the questions brought colour to his face.

When Winky asked how the act worked she realised she'd gone to far. The elder elf stuttered, "Kreacher knows not for sure. Kreacher has never been chosen. When Winky is paired then Winky may ask the Master..." Winky could see Kreacher was shaken by the question and by now he was also very much drunk. She apparated herself off of the chair. While Winky had not had a drink since she'd begun working for Harry, one glass of vinegar still only gave Winky a small tingle. She blinked Kreacher off the chair and to the floor so he wouldn't get hurt.

Winky looked carefully at Kreacher who was now swaying, "Winky wonders if Kreacher would help Winky with one thing more." She took Kreacher's hand and guided him to the cupboard, "Weasley's gave Winky a sleeping place in the attic...like Kreacher. Winky is uncomfortable taking her mate to the sleeping place at the Weasley's. The Weasley's didn't free Winky – Master Harry freed Winky."

She opened the cupboard, "Winky made a place to sleep here in the cupboard. Does Master Kreacher approve of this sleeping place? Would an elf agree to mate here?"

"Master Kreacher sees not why," the elf shrugged, "but elves do such things at a special place. Elves breed at the Ministry. There is a room. And they don't...they're not allowed to...they have help." Kreacher was feeling light headed, "Kreacher is not finished...with work. Kreacher needs a drink."

Winky almost immediately had a drink for him and she helped him put it to his lips but it was not what he expected. Instead of water it was more vinegar. It tasted bitter...beautifully bitter and sour. This time the taste was like a wonderful hot lava that melted on his tongue. It burned his throat as it went down and he wanted just a little more. He felt almost giddy. When he'd finished his cup he watched her banish the drink but he couldn't have expected what happened next.

The younger elf pressed her lips to his cheek. She then pulled him into the cupboard with her. Behind her she closed the door.

If someone had walked near the closed door they'd have heard the strangest thing.

"What is Winky doing?"

A whisper, "Something Mistress taught Winky."

"Master Kreacher is...Master Kreacher thinks Kreacher might be drunk. Does it always feel this good to be drunk?"

"No. Winky thinks Master Kreacher feels good because...oh...

Kreacher sounded disoriented, "What is wrong Winky?"

"There is no wrong, Master Kreacher."

For a few moments only silence came from the cupboard door.

"Master Kreacher?"

His only reply was a snore.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Hannah looked at Harry incredulously, "You mean she?"

Harry cut her off, "Yes." I got to hear the whole story in painful detail."

Hannah sniggered, "And he was upset?"

"This is difficult to talk about...but yes. The first time he thought all of those feelings were from the drinking. He woke up the next morning and he remembered bits and pieces. Soon he began to look forward to having a drink with her." Harry looked sharply at Hannah, "Stop laughing."

Hannah indeed was doubled over on her stool, "Oh...Harry...You must understand..."each word was accompanied by a guffaw that could resemble that of a donkey, "Just like a man...too dumb...to realise...he's being..."

"...Yes, yes, I know." Harry did not find this nearly as funny as Hannah. In fact, the sour look on his face made her realise that while this was a funny story for her there was obviously not a happy ending for Harry. Kreacher, on the other hand...No, she wasn't going to think about that.

"Harry," she finally said in her most sympathetic voice. I understand. I'm not a big proponent of premarital...well, you know. "But they are House Elves. They can't get married."

Harry sighed, "I know. It's not that. There's more to the story." Hannah braced herself to be more serious. She wasn't going to let her mate down. Harry finished, "As you probably figured out, this didn't just happen once. Winky began to have drinks with him any night that she knew I would be working late at the Ministry. I've taken more evenings because I don't have anyone to come home to." Hannah winced when he said this but Harry continued, "They didn't have to worry about the others because Hermione discourages Ron from asking Kreacher for anything after dark. But Kreacher eventually grasped what was happening..."

"...You're saying he didn't know that she was..?" Hannah didn't know how to finish that question without laughing. "He had to know after the second time, didn't he?"

"No." Harry grimaced. He looked as if he was annoyed enough to give up on the story so she tried to coax him, "So what happened?"

"This went on for a few months. About a month ago he finally figured it out. That's when he began hurting himself for being a _bad_ house elf. Apparently, because elves were bred and for so long they were not allowed to...eventually many elves just never learned."

"You're joking!"

Harry shook his head, "No. Those caught were tortured or killed so eventually I guess that curiosity was just bred out of them." Harry voice grew quieter, "When I caught him hurting himself I had to ask him why. He explained the whole thing. He explained that once he figured out what Winky was doing he still couldn't stop because...well, you you can imagine why. He began to feel bad because he looked forward to her visits. Still, he couldn't make himself stop her. He'd pretend that he didn't know that she was getting him drunk to seduce him and he let her go through the whole routine each time. He said he began thinking about her visits all day long and it was all that was on his mind. And then she stopped."

Hannah covered her mouth, "Oh no!"

"Yes, a few weeks ago she finally got what she wanted and she hasn't been there since."

"Oh my." Hannah wore a crooked smile, "That poor elf. To have her begin to...and then to drop by like clockwork...and then to just stop. Oh my. He must be a..."

"...Mess." finished Harry. "Yes, I believe the poor elf is as mad as the day I first met him."

"Have you spoken to Winky yet?"

"Within moments of hearing Kreacher's story. She doesn't understand the problem. The way Fleur explained it to her she made it sound like she was doing 'the elf' a favour. She wasn't getting the same feelings from her visits so she doesn't understand why it's such a big deal to him that she stopped."

Hannah could no longer keep from laughing, "Harry, you can't possibly not see why this is so funny, can you? She quite literally opened up Pandora's Box. Oh, Harry, lighten up."

"Ha Ha. You don't understand. I have an elf that is nearly barking mad because all he can think about is spending time with a certain elf. The certain elf has no desire to continue the relationship. I can't exactly force her to continue the relationship. Worst of all, the Ministry would execute them both if they knew the two had ever spent time together. I still don't know how I'll explain Winky's pregnancy."

Hannah poured Harry another firewhiskey, "Maybe you could hire another house elf to spend time with Kreacher?"

Harry's eyes shot lasers at Hannah, "Not helpful. Not helpful at all."

Hannah winced and deftly changed the subject, "I'm surprised Fleur got involved like that."

"So was I. Fleur claims she had only been explaining the mechanics to Winky. They had been working on grammar while doing some knitting together for Victoire and Winky asked her how babies were made. Winky then asked Fleur why a man would want to do such a thing and Fleur explained that if presented in the right way a bloke would be quite willing to volunteer. Winky asked a few more questions and hatched a plan. Fleur feels terrible for Kreacher now that she knows who 'the elf' is." Harry frowned, "She also didn't consider the repercussions of Winky's behaviour."

Hannah again felt bad for making light of the whole matter. Harry was obviously very worried and sad. Winky had taken advantage of Kreacher without thinking at all about his feelings or even whether he wished to have a baby. Now Kreacher was ignored by her and he had no way of understanding how to cope with his physical or emotional feelings. If a wizard or witch had done something similar he or she would spend a good portion of the rest of his life in Azkaban and rightfully so.

"What do you plan to do now?" asked Hannah with a hint of regret.

"I plan to finish this firewhiskey. After that I have no idea what I plan to do."


	7. TP 07 Picked Up

**Chapter 7 – Picked Up**

**Submitted: Thursday 2 February 2012 **

Harry didn't walk out of the Cauldron empty-handed. Eliza MacGreggor, daughter to the Elder MacGreggor, popped into the Cauldron just before midnight. By then, Hannah had allowed Harry to talk out his worries and fears. Now they reliving their Second Year when Hannah and her Hufflepuff mates accused Harry of being the Heir to Slytherin.

"Harry, I was so scared of you. Zacharias had us all believing you'd conjure snakes into the girl's baths."

That caused Harry to laugh uncontrollably, "After I heard what you lot were whispering about me I wish I could have."

Harry had never been much of a drinker. Four fire-whiskeys, even when spaced over a few hours, was well past his limit.

Hannah kept a careful eye on Eliza from the moment she walked in. The young Auror immediately sat next to Harry at the bar and ordered a pint of Butterbeer. Hannah watched her make a sidelong glance at Harry and ask in a cheerful voice, "May I buy the bloke that saved my life a drink? You still haven't allowed me to thank you properly with that dinner I offered."

"It's not necessary," Hannah cut in with a growl, "Harry doesn't pay for drinks here."

Eliza feigned surpise, "How many lives have you saved, Harry?" She glanced at Hannah's hand, "And aren't you married?"

"Both of you be nice." Harry looked first at Eliza, "Hannah is like my sister. Neither of us has much family left and she married one of my best mates. You remember Neville." Eliza nodded understanding and Harry turned to Hannah, "This is Eliza. A Death Eater knocked her off her broom when we were escorting Draco's father from Azkaban the August before last. I caught her before she fell into the Sea. She's just trying to be nice." Both witch's announced a silent truce but each continued to keep a careful eye on the other.

Harry wisely moved from Whiskey to Butterbeers but the damage had been done. He wasn't pissed but he was very cheerful and was much more forthcoming than usual. Hannah noted that Eliza mixed in questions about what Harry looked for in a witch and that he gladly provided insight. She also noticed how Eliza subtly changed certain mannerisms to reflect his answers.

In fact, as Hannah took in the young witch, she wondered if the red-head had intentionally tried to look like Ginny. Her hair had been cut similar to Ginny's. She wore lipstick so that her lips were the same colour as Ginny's. She even laughed and played with her hair a little bit like Ginny did and Hannah was all but sure this was intentional. Hannah shook her head amazed at the lengths that witches would go to in order to get a wizard's attention.

After their third Butterbeer Eliza stood up, "I need to freshen up a bit. I'll only be a moment." Hannah watched Harry's eyes linger after the young witch as she walked away.

"You realise she's here to pick you up, Harry?"

Harry smiled back, "Is it that obvious?"

"It's as obvious as the nose on your..." She huffed as Harry's grin grew, "You're going to let her do it, aren't you? Harry, don't look at me like that. You know she looks a lot like Ginny. A few inches taller and blue eyes but otherwise she's her down to the hairstyle." Again she huffed when he merely grinned back and he tilted his head slightly as if to ask her the point, "Harry, she knows you're vulnerable and she's trying to look like Ginny so you'll...she's just trying to bag you because you are Harry Potter."

Whether because of the whiskeys or because he missed Ginny, he remained unfazed. Hannah tried a different tactic, "Harry, I know that Ginny is seeing someone else but from what I've heard she's been adamant that she doesn't want it to be too serious. She and Isa made some sort of pact that they wouldn't get serious with a bloke until after they've won their first Quidditch Cup. This bloke from Puddlemore is obviously just something to deflect the attention from your match a few months back."

Harry merely shrugged. By then, Eliza had stepped out of the loo and she was adjusting her blouse as she sat down, "I must have missed something juicy. Harry hasn't smiled like that in months."

"I suppose not," Hannah groused. "I hope you two don't mind but I'm going to close up a bit early tonight. Harry, you don't look like you are in too bad a shape. Will you be able to get home? If not I have a room upstairs you can use."

Eliza smiled at Hannah, "I'll make sure he's well taken care of."

Hannah looked meaningfully at Harry as he was guided to the door by his newfound friend.

Harry could tell she was upset. As they reached the door he asked Eliza to meet him outside. Returning to the bar, he promised, "Don't look at me like that. I won't do anything stupid." Hannah nodded but still looked disappointed so Harry took her hand, "Thanks for caring Hannah. I felt really lonely when I Floo'd in here tonight but _you_ reminded me that I'm never alone."

Before she could blink back the tears he was gone.

* * *

><p>Harry woke the next morning to familiar ginger hair. It looked the same and it felt wonderful on his face but the smell was all wrong. The smell was sweeter and headier. It still made him feel good but it wasn't what he expected and it just wasn't the same. He looked down to find the same fair skin but the freckles were all wrong. Although Ginny's face only had a very light hint of the freckles that had marked her youth, her arms and shoulders were still freckled just like the day he met her. She hated the freckles on her face as a kid and he imagined she had gradually made those fade away through witchcraft but he always complimented the freckles on her arms and shoulders and she had left them there for him.<p>

The witch nestled on his shoulder had very few freckles on her arms or shoulders. He imagined she also had wished hers away over time and that she never would have imagined that he would care for such a thing.

He began to gather his memories from the night before. There was a hazy memory of leaving the Cauldron with Eliza despite Hannah's misgivings. They walked to Eliza's flat which was above one of the more fashionable shops on Diagon Alley. He spent the rest of the evening at Eliza's pretending in the dark that this witch with him was indeed the woman he loved. Silently and only in his head the words were uttered, "Truly pathetic Harry. Truly pathetic."

She'd been a willing accomplice. This was no naïve young witch. She imitated every gesture of Ginny's she could think of. When he responded to a certain throw of the hair or kiss she stored it in her head to be used again. She had become quite adept at imitating his former love and she could make him forget she was Eliza until he looked carefully in her eyes or buried himself in her hair.

Yet, there was a line he wouldn't cross. At first she admired his discipline but soon she took it as a personal affront. Little did she know that the more she desperately tried to coax him into moving forward the more she played into the fantasy Harry had of her being Ginny. Harry had only planned to snog the night away but the young witch he was with was making herself mad trying to fulfil her own expectations.

It wasn't until just before they fell asleep that an exasperated Eliza finally broke down. The mask came off and she was shaking. She desperately whispered in his ear, "Why won't you? Is it because I'm not _enough_ like _her? _What do I have to do? I'll do it."

"Why won't I what?" Harry asked. Her eyes told the whole story. Embarrassment overcame him,"Oh. Erm, it's not anything you've done or haven't done. And it's not what you think," he answered quietly. "Ginny," he said tentatively, "and I never did either. I never have with anyone."

Eliza was stunned. She'd never considered that Harry with his celebrity...at first she wasn't entirely sure he was telling the truth but her instincts told her he probably was. In fact, there was a certain awkwardness to him that shouted out this very fact. He interrupted her thoughts, "I'm sorry that I didn't say something sooner. I don't know when you tell someone such a thing but I plan to wait until I'm married."

Now the redhead was speechless. Normally she was the one fending off advances and keeping careful guard when she was out with a bloke. In this case she had been relegated to the offensive and she couldn't help but be frustrated that advance after advance had been turned away.

Harry looked worried, "You're not upset, are you?"

"No." Eliza swallowed hard, "I just never knew what it felt like to be the bloke. Now that I feel it from the other side it's awful. I honestly can say I've never wanted to be with someone so much in my life and this is the first time I've ever had anyone say no."

Harry didn't know how to reply. He pulled her to him and stroked her hair until she fell asleep. By the time he fell asleep he had determined that her hair smelled like cherry blossoms.

Now, it was morning and he returned to stroking her hair. He had the eye of an Auror and had been trained to see every detail. Aside from her freckles, or lack thereof, he noted that she kept her place tidy and that she was fond of sun in the mornings. Her father must have supplemented her income because she couldn't possibly have afforded her flat on an Auror's scale. The pieces of art on the walls seemed to be originals rather than prints and the furniture was made of finely carved high quality woods.

It didn't take long before she woke and her first act was to kiss him. Her bare shoulders made him shudder and for some reason her deep blue eyes attracted him in a way he had not anticipated. It was different than that surrogate feeling he got when he'd pretended she was Ginny. This morning she was Eliza and he felt drawn to her for reasons other than her similarity to anyone he knew.

"I need a shower," she breathed into his ear. You are welcome to lie in a bit if you'd like." With that she pulled herself out from under the covers and he quickly averted his eyes - it could have been her birthday. Once she left the room he thought back and tried to remember if she'd been that way at any point the night before. Much of the night was still hazy.

The more he thought about her the more he was intrigued. She was a good six years older and she didn't display the same modesty that he was used to. She had sauntered out of the room like she owned it and she had been proud of her figure. It made him feel rather like a prude and, in some way he couldn't explain, he felt inferior. He also felt, with every fibre of his being, that he wanted to walk into that shower and grab a hold of her and kiss her. He wanted to bring her back into her room and...and what?

Drops of water could be heard pitter-pattering from the shower like rain on a lazy morning and the steam escaped out the door in small puffs of smoke. Harry began to create a story in his head out of images he saw before averting his eyes and his memories from the night before. He closed his eyes and focused on the idea of her there in that shower. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the pitter-patter stop or the sound of footsteps.

"What I'd give to know what is going on in that mind..." The voice jarred him. Again he tried to avert his eyes but he couldn't help but steal a glance. Noting his shyness she had to ask, "You were telling the truth last night, weren't you?"

Reluctantly he nodded as he felt his face flush.

Her look was triumphant..it filled her with pride that he couldn't pry his eyes from her. Even better, she felt like she'd cleared a hurdle. She now knew he'd never seen Ginny like this. He was finally looking at her and not some memory of a girl he'd once loved. Excitedly she grabbed her robe. It was time to make breakfast.

* * *

><p>Eliza sat in her cubicle writing the same three names over and over again:<p>

_Elizabeth MacGreggor Potter  
>Elizabeth MacGreggor Potter<br>Elizabeth MacGreggor Potter _

for the first time in ages , she felt like that romantic young witch at Hogwarts. Her only worry was that she'd heard no He hadn't said anything to anyone.

Eliza looked up from her parchment to find Harry ambling toward the records room. She stuffed her self-imposed writing assignment in her desk drawer and followed him into the empty room. She decided just to come out with it, "Are you embarrassed about the other night?"

"No, why?" Harry looked confused.

"You haven't told your mates or anyone else. I thought it'd be all over the Ministry by now."

Harry laughed, "Oh. It was nothing personal. I'm normally a private person and I don;t share these sorts of things with anyone...including Ron. I'll tell anyone you want. Do you really want your father to read about us in the dailies? About what we are or aren't doing or what we've done? Soon after it makes its way around here it'll make its way into the Prophet."

She reconsidered. There was already a picture published in **_Witch Weekly_** of the two of them. It had been taken just outside the Cauldron the night they left for her place. She'd bundled up in her cloak before leaving to keep warm and the picture caught little of her face. The caption read, in bold, _**Harry Potter and Mystery Woman,**_ followed by, _**Has Harry Moved On?**_

"Duly noted," she said in her most official tone. Then more flirty, "Will you drop in tonight? I have wine and I can conjure up some dinner."

Harry thought to himself. He'd considered all week whether it would be wise to see Liza again. On one hand he knew she was interested in him for all the wrong reasons. She was attracted to him because of who she thought he was. Then again, At first Ginny had been the same way.

He was interested in Liza for all the wrong reasons as well. Each time he'd decided it would be a bad idea he remembered her sauntering into the bath that morning and how she paraded before him after her shower. Her boldness was exciting. It didn't hurt that he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

He had to make a decision.

"I can't," he finally answered, "I'm scheduled to work late tonight. How about tomorrow?"

* * *

><p>Hannah wiped the bar as a familiar young bloke sat down in front of her. He snapped his fingers to get her attention which caused her to bristle. The Cauldron was full and she had work to do. Coldly she asked, "What can I get for you?"<p>

"The name of the lass with Mr. Potter a few nights back?" responded the bloke with a touch of Irish to his voice.

She wasn't surprised. She knew him. She continued to wipe the counter, "You know I can't do that. How about a Guinness?"

"Nay, tonight I just need information."

"Sean," Hannah looked up, "I can't give that to you. Why don't you ask Harry?"

Sean turned white, "He doesn't exactly fancy writers. Didn't you read what happened to that bloke at the Prophet?"

"The Prophet wasn't exactly kind to Harry, now was it?"

"Nay." Sean decided to use guilt, "I really need a story, Hannah. Everything I've written lately has been moved to the back pages and I'm getting pressure. Can't you help out a fellow Hufflepuff?"

Hannah softened, "What are you going to write about him? With that picture from the other night readers will put two and two together and come up with five."

"I promise to chat with her first. I won't write anything that she feels uncomfortable with."

She believed him. All the same she thought about Eliza and remembered how the witch had acted that night. Hannah's instincts told her that Eliza would be happy to share and might even make a few things up. Hannah couldn't risk Harry getting hurt. She felt sharing Eliza's identity would be a serious breach of the trust that Harry placed in her. "Sean, I just can't. There are several other things that happen here I don't mind sharing with you but I simply won't risk hurting Harry."

Sean wasn't surprised. He knew before she opened her mouth. He was disappointed but smiled sadly.

Even so, he couldn't walk away from this story. Reluctantly he played his last card, "It's ok, Hannah. Could I get that Guinness then? I might as well drink my sorrows away."

"Don't be like that," Hannah begged. His response to her were the same pair of puppy dog eyes that most of Sean's girlfriends received when his advances were rebuffed. She shook her head and decided she might as well draw his pint. As she turned to reach for the tap of Guinness, her memory of the night with Harry and Eliza shot through her mind unnaturally quickly. She felt feint and swayed as the memory sped before her. Sean called behind her and the flash stopped, "Are you all right, Hannah?"

She braced herself on the cabinet just beside the taps, "Whoa. Yes, I'm fine. Just a little light-headed." Still feeling queasy, she drew his pint and brought it to him, "Forgive me if I retire to the back for a few. I need to sit down."

Sean put his hand on Hannah's, "Aye, you take care of yourself, lass. You don't look well. I'm going to empty this pint and see if I can find any other leads on this mystery witch. Maybe if I skulk around the Ministry she'll turn up."

**A/N: Please take the time to write a review. This is one of the chapters that I'm most interested in hearing about.**


	8. TP 08 The Oracle

**Chapter 8 – The Oracle**

**Submitted: Thursday 9 February 2012 Last submission was Thursday **

**I'm sorry for the delay in releasing the chapter. This is the first of four chapters that they spend with the Hellene and the chapters required a lot of research. The next two involve some sword action and I've spent hours trying to perfect that. I hope you enjoy – and to hear what you think.**

The weather warmed up a little as the new Quidditch season entered its second month. Hermione and Ron had found Harry in the sitting room more than once listening to Harpies matches on the Wizard Wide Network on weekends. He'd recline back in a comfortable chair with his feet on an ottoman and pretend to nap as his old school-mate Lee Jordan described the action on the pitch. So far, the Harpies had only one loss for the season and led the league in points by a slim margin.

Today the match played in the background as Harry sat at a desk with Hermione and watched as she marked off landmarks, "So explain again why we are looking at Delphi rather than Thebes? Didn't you say that the book hinted that we should begin our search where it all began?"

Hermione looked impressed, "You were listening."

"Of course I was listening. If we are going to help Hecate then I need to know as much as possible about this. So why are we looking at Delphi?"

Hermione pointing to the map, "According to legend, the necklace was dedicated at the Temple of Athena Pronaia in Delphi. There were two temples belonging to Athena. This one is smaller and was built after an earthquake in 373 BC. This one here was built about three hundred to four hundred years before that and I think it is the place where the dedication took place."

"What is that circular building?"

"That is the Tholos. They aren't sure exactly what it was for. It had something to do with Athena."

"We should look around a little when we get there. I'd like to see the Tholos if we can."

Hermione was happy that Harry was interested in the buildings. She'd been worried she'd have to force this on him, "You're sure you are up to the visit?"

"I'm more worried about you. You have University. And you have your hours at the Ministry."

"Don't worry about me, Harry. I told my professors I was planning a trip to Delphi. Many were so impressed with how far I am ahead that they agreed to send me notes to read during the trip. The Ministry has allowed me to take a few days off and taken care of a few portkeys as well.

Harry thought to himself, "I'll need to get time off. It shouldn't be too hard, considering."

"Considering what?" asked Hermione.

"Nothing." Harry was as close to Hermione as anyone in the world but he really didn't want to explain his work arrangement with the Ministry. She knew something was up but, just as with this mystery girl, she knew she'd only get a shrug if she asked. She sometimes feared that his paranoia was getting worse now that Voldemort was dead.

"Well, Harry, you have the week off as well. The King Antiones of Greece asked the Minister if he could attend a Festival that is held every four years. Shacklebolt can't be there but he is trying to reach out to the other European governments. We agreed it would be perfect if you and I went instead. We can handle his commitments at the Festival and the search of Delphi for the necklace at at the same time." She looked meaningfully at Harry, "Shacklebolt believes this is as important as anything going on in the Auror Department so he asked me to let you know that we'll be attending in an official capacity. In other words, we will be paid normal wages. You don't mind, do you?"

Harry shrugged non-committally, "So we are also visiting Athens then?"

"No, that's the Muggle capital," replied Hermione. "Athens has very few wizards and witches. Most live in Delphi or Olympia. Most Greeks prefer to stay away from Muggles and with all of the mystery that surrounds Delphi and Mount Olympus it was only natural that they'd be drawn to them. Really, though, there aren't as many witches in Greece as you'd think. Most moved to Rome with the rise of the Empire – which is one reason why Greece and Rome share so many myths."

"Where is the Ministry in Greece then?"

Hermione started using her know-it-all voice, "In Greece it is referred to as the Pan-Hellenic Council. It currently meets in Delphi – which is the other reason we are starting there. Each city state has a representative on the Council. Olympia and Delphi usually have the most influence because of the size of their wizard populations. Thebes, Rhodes and Crete also have a lot of say as well as Cyprus. Few are really sure how it works but I know the king is very important.

Their government actually oversees more territory than the Muggles do. Greece is made up of Greece proper, Cyprus and even Albania on a Muggle map. They ruled Sicily for a time after one of the big Muggle Wars but they have since returned it to Rome."

"Erm, Hermione, I have no idea where Albania or Sicily is. I only knew about Athens because one of my uncle's favourite programs on the BBC was about Greece and Athens."

She pointed to a larger map and shook her head exasperated, "You didn't bother to learn any of your Wizard Law or Government, did you? The important thing to remember is that Greece is called some variation of 'Greece' nearly everywhere but there. In Greece they call the country Hellas, Ellada or the Hellenic League. The wizards there get offended if you call it Greece. Very offended."

Harry seemed to brighten up, "Good."

"What? That's a rude thing to..." Hermione's voice trailed off as she realised Harry's attention had been momentarily interrupted by the Wizard Wide network in the background. Lee was wrapping up with a synopsis of the match, "Once again, the Harpies have rallied to a close victory behind the play of their Chaser Isa and their Seeker Ginny Weasley. Stay tuned to the post-match program which will include interviews and recaps of the scores."

Hermione knew Harry had often closed his eyes in his chair across the room and imagined the action, "You know, Harry, you could go to a match if you wanted to see her play."

He ignored her, "Why? Why do they get offended?"

"What?" Hermione realised he was back to the Greeks, "Erm...Because 'Greece' and 'Greeks' were originally derogatory names used by the Romans. Wizards are much more entrenched in the past than Muggles. Grudges are held much longer as well."

"So what do I call them?"

"Usually you refer to someone from Greece by the city-state they are from. Someone from Athens is Athenian and someone from Crete is Minoan. Someone from Delphi is Delphinian or Delphene. If you aren't sure then it is acceptable to call all Greeks as a whole Hellene or Hellenic."

"Too many rules...but I imagine I won't have to speak much. They speak Greek, right?"

"Hellenic, Harry. But no worries. I've been told that most Hellene wizards speak English as well. Remember, most of the wizard world learned it in the Nineteenth Century when England had become the pre-eminent world power. All trade was conducted in English. Harry, you really must brush up on your Wizard Law."

Harry rolled his eyes.

* * *

><p>The ruins were as spectacular as Harry had imagined. There were only eight buildings of any significance in the ruins but Harry couldn't believe that they were so old or so well made. Hermione kept a close eye on Harry as she was afraid he'd step into the Tholos and draw the ire of their chaperone Rhea.<p>

Hermione was busy in the ruins of the Temple of Athena. She'd been given permission to step into the ruins but she wasn't allowed to touch any of the stones. She hoped to find something in this mess of stone that showed the way. Hermione had received an Outstanding in the study of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts. In preparation for the trip to Delphi she learned any possible spelling of Harmonia, Necklace, Aphrodite and any other possible helpful word in every language that might have been used between 700 BC and 476 AD. She was nearly certain that if she was correct the hint would be left in Roman Greek as it would be out of place and noticeable. Most Romans would not go to the trouble to leave a hidden message in Latin because they considered the Greek of the time the language of the learned.

"Harry, come here," she finally asked when she noticed he was picking up loose stones in the other ruins.

"What do you see?"

Hermione was studying inscriptions near a broken pillar but nothing stood out, "I don't see anything. He looked disappointed so she explained further, "I didn't really expect to. I just assumed this would be the easiest answer and it would be best to rule Delphi out first. I'd hate to come here last after a long search and kick myself."

"Bugger," Harry cursed under his breath. He'd really hoped it would be easier than this. "So now we visit with the king?"

"Yes." But then Hermione stopped and focused on a small stone that had been carved in nearly modern Greek. She read it out loud in Greek first and then translated to English out loud, "History surrounds you. Speak the word and you shall see."

"What?" Harry asked.

"I believe it means that if I utter the correct word then I shall see the history of the temple?" she asked. "I don't know if I am translating it correctly." She began to think of words in Greek that might solve this riddle. If she was right, this might be the very key she was looking for." Loudly and in modern Greek she began to rattle off names and words that might lead to the opening of this trove of knowledge, "Harmonia...Necklace...Aphrodite...Athena...Key...Curse...Wedding..." Eventually she grew frustrated and even louder.

This got the attention of the witch assigned to them and she discreetly made her way to the edge of the ruins, "Miss Granger? May I be of help? Maybe if you were to share what you were looking for then I might help you find it?"

Hermione sighed in frustration, "Maybe you could help with this..." She pointed to the phrase and admitted in shame, "We are looking for the story of the Necklace of Harmonia. It was dedicated in this Temple. I thought it might be a hint because the words were out of place and in modern Hellenic but I can't think of the keyword they might have used."

Their chaperone seemed surprised, "An honest treasure hunter? Most of you will, what you say..? Beat around the bush? I apologise...that is an American euphemism. Many Americans visit here searching for treasure."

Hermione flushed, "Yes. We are looking for the necklace."

"We guard our treasures closely but as the necklace is not here I shall be happy to provide the answer to your question. This is no hint for you. This is a teaching device we have devised for our students that travel from our Academies at Olympia and Cyprus. Let me demonstrate." The witch brought out a small dagger and touched the inscription on the stone lightly, "Epistime." Instantly the entire ruin lit up with different inscriptions. It seemed as if each station or section of the Temple had a readable glow that told a story or, in some cases, several stories.

Hermione walked around the Temple carefully reading the different stories. They described histories of people and events that occurred over the past few millennia within the temple. Hermione noted that the blurbs reminded her of the holograms she learned about in her Optics Chapter of her Intro to Physics lesson at University. Each glowed mysteriously and was readable even in the full light of the afternoon. When she reached the Altar at the back of the Temple there were what seemed like dozens of these blurbs that told stories of blessings of important babies and marriages of important couples. Among these blurbs she finally found what she had come for – the Dedication of the Necklace of Harmonia.

Hermione translated the blurb from Greek to English for Harry: "_The Necklace of Harmonia was dedicated in the Temple of Athena after a string of tragedies devastated those that wore it and their loved ones.. It is true that the necklace was eventually placed in the Temple to be guarded soon after the Temple was built. It is said that the wearer of the necklace was placed at the whim of her husband or lover and that many terrible things happened to those that wore it. This was further proved true during the Age of Pericles, the necklace was stolen by the Tyrant Phayllus and given to his mistress. Her son soon went mad and set his family's house on fire, killing the mistress and destroying the family's treasures."_

Hermione turned to their chaperone, "Is there anything more that you know about the necklace?"

"I know that we are thankful it has not returned to Delphi. The necklace is considered a bringer of dark tidings. Why do you wish to find this necklace?" Hermione explained the story of Lavender Brown and the assurance of a mentor that the necklace might provide a solution to her problems. The chaperone did not seem to be convinced, "The story of the necklace is not commonly told but it is an artefact that brings a few treasure hunters a year. Delphi is a common beginning in the search. As I am assigned to watch the ruins I am familiar with the story – I assume that you are as familiar with it as me and it is unlikely I will sway you against the search. What I will tell you is that there is nothing more you can learn here. I have heard of no-one that has succeeded in finding the necklace...which is both good and bad for you, I suppose. Shall we retire to the Palace?"

Hermione agreed but not before Harry was granted a guided tour of the remainder of the ruins. He had dozens of questions about the circular Tholos. He also convinced their chaperone, Rhea, to show them where the Oracle had originally stood, "Our History of Magic Professor made it sound like the Oracle was a fraud. He claimed the Greeks were duped in believing it was real and that Delphi used the Oracle as a way to fill their Treasury."

"The Greeks?" Rhea asked coldly. "I do not know of these _Greeks_ you speak of but I assure you that any citizen of any of the city-states of the League of Hellas were quite pleased with any answer they received to their questions. The answer may not have been as straightforward as they may have liked but the answer was always understood in due time."

"I'm very sorry," Harry couldn't bear to look at the witch who obviously was offended.

"Please forgive Harry," Hermione explained. "He is not very familiar with your culture. In England that name is used commonly because they do not understand why you find it offensive. I'm sure he won't make the same mistake twice. I also forgot to tell him that you prefer to be called tyrants rather than witches or wizards here in Delphi," Hermione said meaningfully to the witch and hintingly to Harry.

"Oh my," Rhea blushed. "That is true. To call one of us a witch or a wizard then you might as well call us a hag or crone. We consider witches and wizards to be those with the gift but without station. They are plain and rough pliars of the trade and have little or no morals. Most of our kind are landed or at least have means and we are referred to as tyrants in the old fashion of the rulers of cities of old. While we have left the ruling of the cities to the citizens, we have estates that stretch across Hellas and a government based here in Delphi. But to call a tyrant a witch or a wizard would likely end in a duel."

"I also noticed that you do not carry a wand? At least twice I've seen you cast what seemed like a spell while holding a knife of some sort?"

The chaperone was beginning to grow used to Harry's rude references and she no longer flinched but she was quick to correct him, "Only witches and wizards carry wands in in our land. We tyrants often carry tokens that allow us to focus our talents just as our heroic ancestors did." Rhea pulled out her dagger, "This is my token. I do not cast spells or perform magic per se. My token allows me to bend the forces around me to my will. I can brew draughts that allow me to heal or perform heroic deeds. I can also use the forces around me to aid in wisdom or to perform miracles in a fashion. Only plain wizards and witches cast spells, though, and to infer that a tyrant were to cast spells would also be grounds for a Tyrant to seek 'satisfaction' as you may call it."

Hermione chimed in, "Harry, the Tyrants of Hellas are steeped in tradition many centuries old. The Gods and Heroes of Mythology were the tyrants from centuries ago. They shaped the forces around us in a much different way then we do now. They still do. The Tyrants of Hellas are more rulers and warriors than, and forgive me the term so he can understand, spell casters." Rhea nodded understanding – Hermione was only trying to explain.

By now they were in the Tyrant settlement of Delphi. While speaking they had stepped up to a steep hill just above the ruins of Ancient Dephi and their they found a path that was hidden from Muggle Eyes. There were several signs in both Greek and English warning of stiff fines if tourists trespassed. While the slope appeared steeper than any reasonable person would dare scale, the three of them found it to be easily manageable. Harry noticed it was easier than a flight of stairs.

Soon they reached the entrance of a palatial grounds that was secluded at the top of the hill. The grounds had taken centuries to build and refine. Architecture millennia old sprung out of gardens immaculately kept. Flowers that had been gathered over centuries from all across the world were on display and Harry had never seen anything like it. Diagon Alley was the wizard embodiment of the middle class shop culture of England. Likewise, the Gardens of Delphi were the embodiment of the refined quality of a culture that had a centuries old appreciation for art and beauty. The Tyrants of Delphi had come to believe that they were as much the Gods and Heroes that their ancestors were and consequentially they built themselves palaces that any Englishman would consider excessive.

"You should ask it a question...if you believe your question is worthy," Rhea prodded. They were standing before the actual Oracle of Delphi – the new Temple of Apollo. The updated temple was a centuries old but well kept marble building. Atop the columns was an ornate relief of Apollo fighting the Python of Delphi. "It costs only a piece of gold but you shall be rewarded with wisdom without price. Of course, you are only allowed to ask one question."

"I already have an Oracle at home. She has told my future more than once."

Rhea scowled, "Then why did you wish to visit the Oracle?"

Hermione looked meaningfully at Harry and he considered again. He placed a Galleon in the Offering that stood in the Treasury across from the Oracle. He entered the temple with Hermione and the chaperone, doing as Rhea instructed. The marble inside the temple sparkled as the sun was beginning to set. Being the temple was dedicated to Apollo, the sun contributed greatly to the ambience. A large prism at the top of the temple broke the light up into its different components and each hour rich shades of blue, green, orange and red would shift and bathe the different chambers in new colours. The Central Chamber was currently shimmering in a mysterious violet and Harry was thankful Hermione had convinced him to do this.

A woman in blood red robes sat at the end of the chamber near an altar. Her chair was a good meter taller than typical but it was nothing like a throne. She appeared more like an observer than a regal figure and for reasons he could not explain he was very interested in her bare feet which dangled lazily a few feet above the ground. A peculiar looking smoke wafted up from a large crack in the marble floor below her and even from here he was overcome by a sickening sweet smell as if incense were burning. Rhea nudged him forward and then she guided Hermione to a side chapel so he might have some privacy.

Harry took the hint and, alone, he reluctantly approached the figure ahead of him. The smell was overpowering at this point and he felt a sickish feeling in the pit of his stomach. Whatever the smoke was, he knew it was not natural to have exposure to it for long. The woman looked down upon him with interest and eventually she smiled.

"You have travelled far. But not to seek answers. At least not for yourself. How very strange."

"You know who I am?" Harry was not surprised but this did confirm she was authentic.

"Young tyrant, do not ask a question unless you wish it answered. Only one question will be answered as is the tradition of the Oracle. I am Pythia, the Oracle and Priestess of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. I and those before me have answered questions for such great philosophers and heroes as Plato, Aristotle, Plutarch and Sophocles. The Temple stands on sacred fissures that provide me with a certain bind to the collective conscious of the world around me."

"I imagine that it can't be too healthy. I don't feel well standing here." Harry's stomach continued to turn and his head ached.

"True, while my position is an honour it comes at a great cost. Once an Oracle has committed to the Temple she can easily measure her remaining time in months." The Oracle looked Harry over appraisingly, "Rarely do I take the time to speak with those that seek my Council. I find you intriguing. As you find me intriguing? You have placed a great deal of attention on my feet. How very odd."

Harry blushed.

"Forgive me. I do not speak often and I often speak what is in my mind when I do." She returned to her observations, "You have seen much sadness...and death."

"Yes," Harry said more to fill the pause than to agree.

"I understand you don't enjoy speaking of this but I'd like to understand. What I see is so rare it bears closer inspection."

Harry stood silently as she seemed to look at him...into him. Her head would tilt and then she'd look into him again.

"A man is measured by many things. We, the Pythia, are a succession of women but we share a collective consciousness passed down through millennia as a gift from the mighty Tyrant Apollo. I have memories of many heroes who have performed great acts. Rare is the hero who defeats evil by sacrificing himself and never can I remember that hero living to tell the story."

Harry was growing restless.

"But you have not learned all there is about Love." The Oracle was now nodding as if agreeing with herself. "You wish to ask about Love. Ask your question."

Harry considered for a moment. He'd asked Lavender a similar question many times but she had always been vague with the answer. He formed the question in his head and let it out, "I love Ginny as much as anything in this world. She loved me before I even knew I loved her but she has somehow lost interest. How do I get her to love me as much as I love her again?"

The Oracle looked disappointed. She shook her head, "I refuse to answer the question."

"You can't refuse to answer the question. I've read about the Oracle. I am allowed any question. You must answer it."

"For a man with so much experience you are still so much like a young boy. But you are a lucky boy. This evening marks the beginning of the 'Pythian Games' which take place every four years to honour the Great Apollo and his defeat of the python that both defended and devastated our land. The Games last seven days. You should stay for the games, seek enlightenment and return to me with a worthy question the final day of the celebration."

"A worthy question? Just because you don't want to answer a question about the real world? I get the distinct impression you can't answer my question. If I ask something general like how to fix the world or achieve peace you'd probably do fine with that. But a question about something practical and specific is much more difficult, isn't it?"

The light in the chamber shifted from violet to a violent shade of red. "Take care with your tone with me, young tyrant," warned the Oracle. "I'm aware of your accomplishments but I can see into your very soul. I am not as fragile as I appear and should not be trifled with. Treat me with the respect I am due." The Oracle's eyes glowed like embers and she now sat imperiously before him.

"I'm sorry," Harry found himself saying for the second time this afternoon.

The priestess softened, "I ask you to reconsider the question for your _own_ good. This is my gift to you. It is a gift that the Pythia rarely offer. Consider this as you consider your question. You defeated a great evil because of you loved so much that you were willing to give yourself. Since then all you have done is give.

But unfortunately you have only learned one aspect of love. There are two. Until you learn how to demonstrate both acts of love fully you will never succeed in any relationship with any person for any extended period of time. Consider what I have said and refashion your question. Return to me when you feel you have a question worthy of an answer."

At that the Oracle turned away. Both the chair and altar were covered in shadows and the chamber darkened so that only the walkway to the exit was lighted. The columns did not glimmer. One watching would have thought that night had suddenly fallen. Harry took the hint and headed for the exit. When he reached the door he was met by Hermione and Rhea.

"So what now?" asked Harry.

"What now?" Hermione asked. "What did you do in there? Rhea said you'd only be a few moments."

"The Oracle and I had a conversation."

"What?" asked Hermione and Rhea at once. Rhea shook her head, "The Oracle doesn't have conversations. She only answers questions." Harry looked at Hermione and she nodded agreement.

"Yes."

Rhea explained further, "Usually with little more than a sentence. Maybe two. She's been known to answer questions with only one word. What did you ask her?"

"It's personal. But it doesn't matter. She didn't answer it. She told me to come back with a better question." Harry didn't notice Rhea and Hermione share a look. "Besides, most of the time she spent asking me questions."

"King Antiones will be most interested in this. You should tell him during the feast this evening," Rhea advised.

"The King? At the Feast?" Harry asked.

"Yes. The two of you are his Guests of Honour. Tonight's Feast begins the Pythian Games and their shall be all sorts of entertainment."

Hermione looked excited, "I'd been told by the Minister that this would be a good time to come for this very reason. The Games take place over six days?"

"Seven if you count this evening. Tonight we shall Feast and we shall see the first Demonstration of Swords. The Demonstration of Swords is held each evening and is also called the Tournament of Champions. I'm sure the King will be happy to explain in more detail."

They now stood at the entrance to the Palace itself. It was majestic. Two servants in white linen tunics met them and Rhea gave instructions, "Until then, I shall leave you to the servants and they will show you to your rooms."

As Hermione and Harry followed the servants they spoke quietly amongst themselves, "What do you think?"

"Harry, it is more amazing than I even imagined. What happened with the Oracle?"

"I'll explain after the Feast. For now, I'm more interested in these Games."


	9. TP 09 The Demonstration of Swords

**Chapter 9 – The Demonstration of Swords**

**Submitted: Monday 12 February 2012 **

As Guests of Honour, Harry and Hermione sat to the left and right of Antiones, the King. Harry was eating in his usual quiet fashion while the King and Hermione discussed the customs of the Hellene, "So, why do you have a King if each of the city-states make its own laws?"

Antiones happily answered the question, "The City-States do not make all of the laws. The City-States govern themselves when it comes to criminal conduct and ethical behaviour. For example, if a man has a child out of wedlock in Olympia, he may go to prison for up to ten years. If a man has a child out of wedlock in Athens there is no penalty."

"I see, so people may live in a city-state that shares their values?" asked Hermione.

"Precisely, but certain rules such as trade between states are determined by me, the king. I and my court are responsible for fair trade between states and also for the safety of the people within our borders. If states have a dispute I must be fair – even if my state is involved. The difference from my rule and that of Countries with a Ministry is that the law is handed down by me at the recommendation of the Pan-Hellenic Council. In England you have a Council that votes at the recommendation of your Minister. We find it much more efficient to have one person decide on a law with the advice of a council rather than a Minister that recommends a law that is voted on."

"It seems unfair, though."

"Sometimes it is. That is why I am only king for up to four years at a time. This week we will likely have a new King."

This peaked Harry's attention, "How is that?"

"Until the end of the Games I am King. One of the largest draws of the Pythian Games is a Tournament called The Demonstration of Swords. Each Champion is from a different city-state and represents a nominee for King. The Champions fight until one withdraws, becomes unconscious or dies fighting. There is no shame in withdrawing and withdrawal is encouraged if the Champion is placed in a position which he has no chance to win. After each round the winners are paired up for another battle the following evening. This is done until there is a final winner."

"And you just give up your throne?" asked Harry.

"A few Kings have reneged," explained Antiones, "But it never ends well. All states signed a pact many centuries ago that requires that if the king does not relinquish his power, the other states will fight as one to crush the false king and state that supported him. Any state backing him up will be burned to the ground. Any supporters will be burned alive within it. We have a special kind of fire that will destroy anything, including a Tyrant," claimed Antiones.

"Fiend Fyre," whispered Hermione.

"It is a dark spell that an Athenian created centuries ago during the ancient wars with the Persians. They used it when they battled opposing Navies on the waters. Their opponents could do nothing and they feared the Athenians." The King sat thoughtful for a moment, "But enough about that. Let me enjoy my last few days as King without such miserable thoughts. If my state's Champion does not succeed then my throne shall be moved happily to its new home and I shall crown a new King. No King has been foolish enough to resist a peaceful change of power in nearly six Centuries. There were only two others in the thousand years before that. It is one of the things that separates us as Hellene from the Barbarians."

"A thousand years?" asked Harry.

"Of course," explained Hermione, "When Rome was sacked in the Fifth Century the Hellene took back Olympia and Delphi and a few small states. The Muggles of Eastern Rome continued to rule but the Tyrants were stronger than their Roman counterparts to the East. The Eastern Romans were more interested in Egypt by that time. They mistrusted anything Western and were happy to just avoid it."

"Very good." answered the King but he was growing distracted. The King grew wary of the hour and his servants began to signal that people were finishing their meals. Many at their table had sat listening to the conversation but a few had carried on conversations of their own in Greek. For example, the Queen sat at the opposite end and was discussing the arrangements for the Coronation Ball that would mark the end of the Games.

Once the final signal was given, Antiones stood up and spoke to the crowd in his native tongue, "I would like to thank all of you for sharing a fine evening of food, wine and entertainment. I am happy to announce that we have Harry Potter and Hermione Granger from England with us this evening and they been so kind to act as the Guests of Honour for the Games." As the crowd applauded politely Harry looked to Hermione for explanation. She apparently understood the speech and she explained silently.

"Now let us retire to the arena and we shall enjoy the Demonstration of Swords!" announced the King in closing.

As they followed the crowd to the theatre the King apologised, "I'm sorry, Harry. I do wish you spoke our language. I hope Hermione was able to translate." Harry nodded and the King seemed pleased.

Once in the theatre, they found their seats and servants took orders for wine and drinks. Sitting near the King allowed them to sit at a spacious table that had some of the best seats in the chamber. "Rarely is anyone killed," explained the King "but it can get messy at times. Fortunately, most Champions are smart enough to retire if they become critically injured and our healers can heal nearly all injuries if they are caught quickly enough. We had a Champion who's heart was pierced eight years ago and he died but that is rare and the Champions know what they are getting into. Simply fighting in the Tournament is an honour in each state and the participants are instant celebrities. And for the victor..? My Champion is still the most revered man in all of Delphi – more than me...and I am the King. He leads a charmed life..."

Soon after everyone had their seats, the Champions filed out, each with a page following close behind. The pages carried the weapons for each of their Champions and showed them to their positions. As the Champions warmed up, King Antiones explained what his guests were looking at, "The Champions just drew lots to determine their opponents for the first round. They have ten minutes to warm up and choose their weapons. Each is allowed up to two weapons, armour and a shield if he can carry it. The armour and weapons may be enchanted but neither poisons nor invisibility are allowed. Once a weapon or shield leaves its owners hand it may not be used by anyone."

Hermione watched a few servants in tunics of blue linen scurry up and down the aisles writing furiously. The King noticed her curiosity, "Those are scribes. They are making wagers for the guests on the winners of the Tournament." Antiones pointed up at the wall...the only wall with no seats, "In the rafters there are also scribes that are constantly changing the odds." Indeed, Harry noticed that 'Thebes' was 2 to 1 odds and 'Sparta' was 3 to 1. The only ones with similar odds were Minoa and Olympia with 4 to 1. All others were 10 to 1 or higher. The king explained, "As the tournament progresses, the odds will go down for the remaining participants. The first round is always the most exciting to wager but the final round will involve the largest wagers."

"Who is that?" asked Hermione, pointing at a lumbering mass of a bloke who was swinging a large hammer the length of a man. He wasn't wearing armour or shoes. All that covered him was a bright red tunic and long black hair that covered his shoulders.

"Good eye," answered the King. "That is Pjeter from the mountains of Vlore to the north. I have a large wager on him as the dark horse of the tournament. He is devastating with his hammer. He carries a smaller sword, if you consider a five foot long sword small. Watch as he uses his wrists – he is the perfect example of the Tyrant that uses the ethereal forces around him to increase his strength. No citizen of any size could carry even the handle of that hammer." Pjeter landed a blow on the ground with the hammer and the room shook.

"The favourite is Tarkkus of Thebes." The King pointed to what looked like an insubstantial bloke in common bronze armour who carried a sword and shield that were just as plain and unadorned. "Oh, I see your scepticism. But watch how he uses the sword." The young warrior's page was holding up a dummy as Tarkkus made short work of slicing at it from all angles. "Watch his quickness and how he attacks relentlessly with short quick strokes. He doesn't stand in place like the others and he almost dances...always keeping his sword and shield between him and his opponent." Antiones continued to watch the skill of Tarkkus with great interest, "Harry, have you ever fought with a sword?"

"Never a person. I've never even seen two people fight with swords. I'd like to learn how to use one properly."

"That can be arranged," the King offered. "It takes years to master any sword but you might learn the basics." The king demonstrated with his hands, "To thrust is to stab at your opponent. To swing is to make a swiping motion...your goal with a broad sword is to damage the opponents armour with the weight of the blade. A parry and riposte is to try to simultaneously block and disarm your opponent with your sword. Those are simple incomplete explanations – for example, Tarkkus has a thinner, lighter and sharper blade which he uses to actually cut his opponent. I can have one of our trainers spend some time with you this week and you'd have more of an appreciation. Each type of sword...or axe...or any other weapon...has its own technique to master. What type of sword did you use and when?"

Harry was modest, "It was a broad sword like ones used below. It was nothing really."

Hermione would have none of his modesty, "Nothing?" She looked at Antiones and filled with pride, "Don't let him fool you. He saved my boyfriend's sister by defeating a full-grown giant basilisk with a broadsword. He didn't use any magic at all."

Harry blushed as the King looked him up and down, "A basilisk? With only a sword?"

"I didn't do most of the work," Harry explained as he glared at Hermione. "My Headmaster's phoenix came to my aid. The phoenix brought the sword and blinded the basilisk."

The King was speechless. Until now his Queen, Lydia, had been silent and had only listened, "My husband has always dreamed of seeing a phoenix. For you to be able to summon one and have it fight alongside you says much about you. Did you say you were student at the time?" Seeing Harry was uncomfortable with the praise and the question, she changed the subject, "Would you like to place a wager on any of the Champions?"

Harry considered and the queen signalled a scribe. "All I have are Galleons," explained Harry, "Am I able to exchange them?" The scribe explained, "We trade in Drachma, Sire, but they have the same value as Galleons. The minimum wager is a silver although it is customary to make a wager of of at least one Drachma...or in your case, Galleon."

"I'd like to wager ten Galleons on the Champion from...Vlore? Pjeter, you said?" Harry looked for confirmation of the pronunciation from the King and Queen and they nodded. "And ten Galleons on the one from Olympia." Once he settled up the King excused himself to speak to a Tyrant a few seats away. Hermione took the opportunity to confide in Harry. She looked queasy. "I don't know if I can sit through this," she whispered.

"Young lady," the Queen offered gracefully, "If for any reason you feel uneasy then either avert your eyes or make this symbol to my servant with your hand. He will guide you out and no-one will be the wiser. Of course, if you wish to leave now then we will think no less. I admit this is a rather gruesome event and there will be blood. Hopefully no-one will be killed but there will be much blood."

Hermione gathered her courage, "No, I will stay. If I feel ill then I will do as you said."

"Very well," the Queen smiled. She leaned in close to Hermione, "It does not usually take long. They spend most of their time circling and looking for an opening. Once they begin actually fighting it only takes a few seconds. I'd be shocked if the entire thing lasted more than ten minutes."

Once the Champions were introduced and they were set in their places the action began. At once, thirty-two Champions fought simultaneously. Sixteen circles had been drawn on the arena floor and each Champion was paired up with an opponent. There was just enough room between each circle that an errant swing would not interfere with another match. The Queen had not exaggerated regarding the bloodshed. Somehow Hermione sat through the carnage though each time Harry broke his eyes from the action he noticed his mate was green. He took hold of her hand and squeezed gently and she smiled appreciatively.

Within thirty seconds all but four of the pairs were finished. With each end a cheer and a groan could be heard as the nobles watched their wagers either stay safe or be lost with their Champion. Harry's second wager made it through the first round as Rhonin, the Champion for Olympia, bested his opponent from Corinth with a leap over a low swing and a thrust to the gut. The Corinthian fell hard to the ground and the healers made a mad dash to get to him before he lost too much blood.

Fortunately Hermione had not been watching the far corner. Two Champions fought furiously until an awkward swing resulted in a rather bloody incident. The one in blue had tried to block his opponents swing with his sword. His opponent had swung so hard that it snapped Blue's blade. Blue couldn't get out of the way and his arm was clipped off. The arm and the sword flew into the crowd and Harry couldn't help but be both sickened and amazed. It was gruesome and strangely unreal in a fantastic sort of way. Harry got it – these men trained all their young lives to fight in what one could only consider a reckless event – but they fought so that an entire society could peacefully transfer power and keep the peace. And at least they had healers on hand to limit the damage.

Antiones was explaining the tactics between the Champion of Thebes, Tarkkus, and his opponent Tyrus, from Macedon, "Watch as they circle each other. These are two smart calculating warriors. Each is looking for an opening but he waits just out of range like a cat. The Macedonian carries a heavier shield and sword. He plans to use greater strength to overcome the Thebe. He knows Tarkkus is quicker and he's waiting for him to move first. Whoa!"

In another circle, the Minoan had been disarmed and his sword came flying at the Macedonion from behind. Tarkkus rushed forward and knocked the flying sword down before it hit his opponent. The Macedonian, not knowing he was being protected, brought up his sword and took a swing at his opponent - thinking he was being attacked. The crowd cheered when the Thebe brought his sword up to protect his opponent and with his quickness still ducked under the opponent's blow.

Tyrus, the Macedonian, saw he'd nearly lost his head and he bowed to his opponent in thanks. Scribes were called from around the room to make quick bets on the Thebe before the odds worsened.

"That was the best swordsmanship I've seen in quite some time," admitted the King to his Queen and she nodded agreement. He began narrating as Tyrus and Tarkkus returned to their fight. "You see that? When fighting with broadswords the opponents will often go for the legs. The Macedon just tried to take Tarkkus, the Thebe, off guard by going for his feet. Tarkkus leaped right over it and placed a blow at the Macedon's shoulder. Oh, see there? Tyrus blocked it and Tarkkus lost the intiative. Tyrus is swinging with hard blows directly at Tarkkus's sword now."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"He's trying to break the Thebe's sword. Remember, it is thinner and it can't take too many blows from a large sword or it will eventually snap. Is Pjeter still fighting?" Antiones asked as he became distracted by his other favourite.

Indeed Pjeter was still circling the outer ring with his prey. Neither had thrown a blow yet. "That boy's afraid of Pjeter. I wouldn't want any part of him either. That hammer will crush the kid if it lands," explained the King. "Oh, look over there! Tarkkus has thrown his shield down and has unsheathed his second sword! Harry, Tarkkus is more like an assassin than a fighter. He's so quick – watch."

Harry heard a "tut." Glancing out of the corner of his eye he caught the Queen admonishing her husband for talking over the action. "Even king's are just regular old blokes," Harry thought to himself.

The action in Pjeter's circle grew more intense. Pjeter feigned an opening and his opponent stepped forward to strike. Like a lumbering giant, Pjeter the Vloren brought back his hammer and swung. Pjeter took a shallow swipe to the chest and his tunic tore away at the front with blood spurting all about. His opponent, though, had misjudged the speed of the hammer and a sickening crack of ribs could be heard as the smaller Champion crumpled to the ground awkwardly. The healers rushed to his aid as applause filled the chamber. Tyrus turned his head slightly to see what had happened.

Tarkkus, the Thebe, took the opportunity. Thinking his opponent had been distracted by the action, he spun toward Tyrus and swung his first sword while thrusting the second. Tyrus had been ready – he brought his shield up to block the first attack and he used his own sword to parry the Thebe's thrusting attack. The second sword flew from the Thebe's hands and Harry couldn't help but notice Tarkkus shake the empty hand from the sting. Now exposed, Tarkkus was hit in the chin by the follow through of Tyrus's shield and he fell back...now holding only the one sword."

"Tarkkus has lost," lamented the king. And indeed it took only minutes to end the match. Tarkkus brought both hands to the handle of his sword to withstand his opponent's attacks. Tyrus brought powerful swing after swing with his larger and thicker sword until he finally snapped the thinner sword. As the broken blade clanged to the ground Tarkkus ducked to avoid the edge. He knew he had lost and he immediately bowed in defeat.

Hermione was still queasy from the blood but she couldn't help but be interested, "Tarkkus seemed to have the edge once he pulled out his second sword. Why did he make such an awkward attack? The other bloke seemed to fend it off easily."

"Not his best moment," admitted the king. "Tarkkus was watching Tyrus's eyes. He thought that Tyrus had been distracted by Pjeter's crushing victory. He counted on surprise. Very disappointing, really." The King stood up, "Excuse me as I exercise my duties," and he closed out the evenings ceremonies.

"Do you think you can sit through the rest of the Tournament?" asked Harry, later, as the two headed back to their rooms.

"I think so," Hermione answered...still a little green. "Once you begin to watch it's hard to take your eyes off. It's like a train wreck really. But the Games are not just made up of sword fights. They have art contests like acting and painting. Tomorrow night before the next round of fighting they will have a music contest that is held during the meal. The instrument of choice is much like a guitar. Personally, I'm looking forward to the Chariot Races on Thursday."

"So am I. I heard they can be pretty intense. I want to see the archery on Wednesday as well. Why didn't you tell me about all of this before we got here?"

"I told you there was a festival and games. I don't think even the Minister knew how big this was. I didn't even know about the fighting or the Coronation. I just thought it was a local tradition like our TriWizard Tournament and we were lucky enough to be able to sit in."

Harry beamed, "Well, it's more than that. I think it's brilliant that we'll get to sit in on the coronation of a king."

"Yes. This is going to be a lot of fun," admitted Hermione. " I wish Ron could have come. He'd have loved this."

"Send an owl and get him down here. He can at least make the weekend. I'll send an owl to Shacklebolt and ask for a port key. If tonight was any indication, that final round is going to be incredible and he'll kill us if we come back and he's forced to hear what he missed."

**A/N: An admission - I'm worried about releasing this chapter because I'd originally planned on having somone proof it for me to let me know if the sword scenes were easily followed. It would have been the first chapter I hadn't proofed myself but I felt it necessary because this is my first sword fight. It's also my first time to attempt a fight involving multiple participants. I've spent more time on it than I have the previous three chapters but I'm worried that I'm too close to be a proper judge. What I need from you is feedback. **

**If it's good it's good. if it's hard to read then it's hard to read. Were you able to follow the names and the action? Did I have too much going on? It it keep your attention? I am submitted the next chapter with the final round later this week so I'm counting on your feedback. Oh, and I'm curious who you think will win it all. As always, I already know. I wrote the chapters in January. Cheers! **


	10. TP 10 The Longshot

**Chapter 10 – The Longshot**

**Submitted: Monday 20 February 2012 last Tuesday 14 February 2012**

**A/N: I've really enjoyed writing these past few chapters. I hope they've provided something different for you to read. I took some of your comments into consideration when revising this chapter. This might be a good time to remind you that I had no part in the creation of Harry Potter or his world. **

The week raced by as Hermione and Harry were treated like royalty. They sat with the king and queen every evening for the feasts that were part of the Games. They were allowed access to any of the events that were part of the festival. They'd taken in plays and musical performances and had seen some unique art exhibits. Both agreed, however, that none of the events were as captivating as the tournament that would ultimately decide the future king.

The final match of the tournament was to be held after the evening's meal. There was an electricity about the dining hall as everyone had an opinion which of the two remaining champions would win. Rhonin and Pjeter were so different in style and build that imaginations ran wild at the different possibilities.

Pjeter had defeated each of his opponents with overwhelming strength and the surprising speed of his blows. He didn't even bother with defence – assuming that his opponent couldn't possibly make a worthy strike before being crushed by his hammer. He didn't even bother with armour – saying that it got in the way.

Rhonin was a scrapper who fought with speed and a good head. He wasn't as quick and agile as Tarkkus had been but he had the ability to strike from any angle and punish those that were willing to leave an opening. Rhonin was still the slight favourite between the two remaining warriors as he'd started the tournament with only four to one odds. Only two champions had started with better odds.

The winner of the week's musical competition played a light tune in the background as hundreds feasted on lamb. While many debated which champion would be tonight's winner, one table discussed the wreck during the chariot semifinals and another table discussed the merits of a tragedy that had played that afternoon in the amphitheatre. At Harry's table, Ron had arrived the afternoon before and he'd spent the past half hour discussing Tavli - a board game that the king had been playing that morning with a fellow tyrant.

"It's a lot like a board game a mate of mine showed me at home called backgammon," was how the conversation started. They went on to discuss the game in what Harry considered mind numbing detail. He found himself wondering how Ginny's match had gone today and he decided he'd have to ask after the Harpies-Bats score when he got the first chance – which would likely be the morning. The one positive of the Prophet was that it was still printed worldwide and he'd possibly find a copy if he looked hard enough.

Hermione had intentionally sat closer to the Queen so the blokes could be left to their conversations and the women theirs. It had been like that much of the past four days...Hermione had been adopted as part of Queen Lydia's entourage and Harry spent most of his free time with the King – mainly studying swordsmanship. Both the king and the queen had been enthralled with their English guests and they asked them as many questions as they answered.

Ron brought a new dynamic to the group. While Harry was quiet and calm, Ron was like a caffeinated otter. All the same, his quick grasp of tactics and strategy made the king respect him just as much as his mate Harry. It did not take long at all for the king to see why Harry held this young bloke in such high esteem...regardless of the fact that Ron was much more profane and earthy than the bloke with the unusual scar on his forehead.

After what seemed like a marathon of questions and answers about Tavli, Ron finally seemed to calm down and the king's side of the table grew quiet. Ron began staring at the opposite end, "She really is stunning, isn't she?" The King, oddly used to the question, answered with pride, "Yes, she is. I am a very lucky..." His voice trailed off uncomfortably when he realised Ron was looking at his own young sun-kissed witch and not the king's. Hoping no-one noticed, he turned to Harry, "How did you know who the finalists would be?"

"What?" Harry shook himself out of his stupor, "I didn't know they'd be the finalists. I don't know how I chose them really," he admitted.

The King was sceptical, "You are saying you just chose at random?"

Harry tried to remember back to that first night, "Originally I was just going to choose Pjeter. He seemed more focused than the others. I don't know, I guess he looked like the one I'd want fighting by my side. Same thing with the bloke from Olympia. Rhonin? He caught my eye. He just looked dangerous, crafty, so I changed my mind and placed a wager on him as well."

"Either way you will walk away tonight with winnings. And this time tomorrow I shall no longer be King. In fact, if Pjeter carries the match, it will be the first time that a King will rule without Hellene blood in his veins since the days of the Romans."

"Does that worry you?" asked Harry.

"Oh, no. Both of the potential Kings are good men and they have both served as allies in years past. It is not as simple as people may think for a king. Even if you make the laws, they will only be enforced if you are believed in. You need allies for that. In fact, the man from Vlore was chosen as Nominee on my recommendation"

"What will you do after the Coronation?"

"That is a good question." Antiones admitted, "What have you done since you defeated the dark wizard?"

"Not much. I've done what I can to help England rebuild. Many of our people had loved ones killed and many others lost everything. The Government had to be built from the ground up. There was a lot of mistrust in our Ministry and I joined the Aurors – they protect the people – because the Minister believed I was one of the few that the people trusted."

"And how have you enjoyed that?" asked the King with a raised eyebrow. "You could have done anything by all accounts I have heard. Ron describes you as a celebrity amongst those that ride sticks."

"Brooms," Harry corrected. "They are as popular in England as your chariots are here. In fact, they are popular in much of the world."

"So why do you take a job cleaning other people's messes?"

Harry stole a look at Ron, who was still caught up in Hermione, before answering. This was not lost on the King, "I see. There is no need to answer. Loyalty is an honourable reason...to one's country...or one's friend." The King considered, "But there is not much gold in that...or glory."

"No gold or glory, actually," Harry mentioned without thinking. He laughed when both of the king's eyebrows shot up in response. Harry quietly explained, "I don't need it. In fact, I have much too much of both of those for now."

"Too much glory and gold?" the king laughed heartily. That is a complaint I've never heard." He paused and considered Harry's original question, "Then you know my answer," the King replied. "I will do whatever is necessary for my people." Harry nodded understanding.

Hermione was likewise deep in conversation with the Queen. "I think I've always loved him," admitted Hermione.

"Well, he's obviously smitten by you. He hasn't taken his eyes off you since he finished his dinner," the Queen observed.

"Yes. Dinner. That is his first love. But I am a close second," Hermione smiled.

"That goes for most young men," the Queen agreed. Lydia grew serious, "I hope you were not offended about my question regarding Harry yesterday at the baths?"

"When we were sunning?" Hermione asked, "Oh...no, I get that a lot when it comes to Harry. Everyone wants to know why we aren't together."

"Have the two of you _ever_ explored more?" the Queen seemed titillated by the idea of a love triangle.

"Oh, no, never." She leaned in to explain more, "The world sees Harry differently than I do. Harry is a grizzled young wolf that leads a pack but was mistreated as a pup...beaten and neglected. He gives affection easily and he is loyal to a fault – fiercely he will defend his pack with little fear of harm to himself. Some don't even realise that he watches over and protects them." Hermione told the story of how Harry went in the wilderness searching for Madeline the year before. She closed it with a shrug, "He is an enigma – he is easily the most adored bloke in all of England - yet he is also the most lonely."

The queen arched an eyebrow, "Loyal, fearless and mysterious. He sounds like every young maiden's ideal man."

"Ron is more my type. Ron is the floppy dog that you find on your front doorstep. He craves affection as much as he gives it."

The Queen still had her eyes on Harry, "Do you think he'd be offended if I tried to pair him up with a young maiden?"

Hermione laughed, "I get that one a lot too." You can do your best but his heart is still with Ron's sister. She's moved on but he just can't seem to."

"Not at all?"

"He has been with one since then that I know of. He hasn't said anything about it. One of the papers caught a picture of the two of them together one evening but no-one knows who she is."

"He's secretive?"

Hermione nodded, "He must be. Harry has lived in the public's eye from the time he was a boy. And the public is fickle. They are at the same time charmed and captivated and jealous of him. The papers can't get enough of him and will alternate between deifying and demonising him. Imagine a modern day Apollo."

"Maybe he should move here – both of you. The two of you are always welcome. We have enjoyed your company."

"He'd never move." Hermione nodded toward him, "He has finally made himself a family in England and family is the one thing that he treasures most. I think he'd rather be miserable being there for the ones that he loves than happy in a new world by himself."

"Then he is a wise man."

Soon dinner was finished and the crowd retired to the Arena. A short ceremony celebrated the victors of each of the week's events. Actors and minstrels and athletes were treated with equal respect as they were each presented with a branch of laurel by the king himself. Queen Lydia watched her husband with pride as he performed one of his last duties as king.

As the awards came to a close, Queen Lydia leaned toward Hermione, "In the past this next event would open the Pythian Games. Over time it has become more intricate and has evolved into what you will see tonight. It is a dance that is meant to serve as a reminder why the Tournament is so important to us."

Soon, a drum thumped out a slow march as the thirty-two champions stepped into the Arena in a formation four men wide and eight deep. When the champions reached the centre of the Arena, Pjeter and Rhonin lifted their swords and stepped away from the formation as another set of drums and instruments began to play a foreboding song of discord. The two Champions were rallying their peers and they split into two groups on opposite sides of the arena floor.

After a brief pause, another set of drums began beating out a frenetic song of fighting and strife. Immediately the opposing factions charged each other and rallied to battle. It was obvious that the fighting was choreagraphed but it was amazing all the same. Pjeter and Rhonin looked on from opposite sides as 'their' men did 'battle.'

The Queen described the action, "What you are seeing is a ceremonial battle dance. Pjeter and Rhonin represent two factions fighting for power. Notice that each stands and watches as their men fight. That will soon change."

And it did. An ear shattering throng rang from an unseen gong. At the same time a blast of fire came from the now open doors to the Arena floor below. The Priestess Harry had met in the Temple to Apollo followed a large serpent made of fire. At her direction it ceremoniously charged the fighting Champions. They spread apart and let the dragon take the centre stage. A lone flute guided the serpent as it danced around the centre of the Arena – which symbolized the centre of the Earth.

Lydia knew Hermione was interested in history, "Delphi was considered the centre, the navel, of the Earth. The Python came and ravaged this place. It got it's power from the fissures in the Earth. The Python was a great dragon or serpent that was originally meant to defend the fissures but it got out of hand."

Hermione and Ron held hands. Ron sqeezed Hermione's hand when the king approached the edge of the action. The flute mocked the king as the Python danced tauntingly in front of him.

Antiones raised his sword respectfully first to Pjeter to his right and then Rhonin to his left. He then raised his sword menacingly as if to challenge the Serpent.

"He is rallying the states to battle their common foe."

Both the squadrons led by Pjeter and Rhonin marched to the King and saluted from opposite sides. They fell in as one force behind the king and he led them in a march against the fiery serpent. As they marched a lone drum again beat the pace.

But the Python charged and pushed them all back – including the king. Once they retreated safely, the king and his men faced the table that Ron and Hermione were sitting. He again raised his sword with respect as if to rally another force. The queen pointed behind Ron and Hermione and they turned around to find the winner of the archery competition standing behind them on a dais. The archer wore a wreath made up of brilliant orange and yellow flowers. He represented Apollo who had elected to join the fight.

The archer took an arrow from his quiver and drew back the string of his bow. The 'twang' was unmistakable as the first arrow fired into the serpent. Fireballs blasted up in the air like fireworks with the first and each successive arrow that the archer shot. The Python continued dancing menacingly but began showing signs of weakness. With the archer's last arrow the Python finally blasted into a thousand small bolts of fire and the crowd erupted into applause.

All that was left was the king and his thirty two soldiers. Each captain again separated with his squadron with swords raised as the haunting drums of discord resumed. But this time the king raised his sword between them and they stopped. They bowed. He placed his sword in his sheath and extended an open hand toward each captain. Pjeter and Rhonin approached the king and each took one of his hands in their own. Together they walked to the far side of the Arena hand in hand with the king. They turned to face the crowd. The King took the Champions hands and he held them high in the air.

In Greek, King Antiones spoke for the first time. Quietly Hermione translated for her mates, "Here today I present two Champions whom our people have found worthy to fight for the crown. As is the custom of our people, we no longer ask our old men and children to fight for the ambition of a few. Each Champion selects a Nominee that _he_ feels fit to lead us. He then fights willingly for his chosen leader – often at the risk of great injury – even at the risk of death."

"Before you stand the thirty-two men that have risked their lives for peace. Each of them has fought not just for their state or their chosen leader. They have trained most of their lives and fought this week for you – each of you – so that you and your children, and mine, have no need to fight. Please show your gratitude for the Heroes of the Federation of Hellas!"

Applause filled the Arena. Each of the fallen champions took this time to take a spot around a larger circle that dwarfed the Battle Circle. Each sheathed their weapon and stood waiting facing the smaller battle circle.

The king gestured to Pjeter and Rhonin, "Champions, would you please escort your Nominees to their places?"

Pjeter of Vlore and Rhonin of Olympia found their Nominees in the crowd and escorted them to chairs on opposite sides of the floor below. They then took their places in the Battle Circle and began to warm up. Meanwhile, King Antiones returned to his table. He sat with Ron on one side and Harry on the other. His wife Lydia was just on the other side of Hermione.

As the King sat down, Ron remarked, "That show tonight was incredible. And the matches last night were the most intense thing I have ever seen."

"The most intense?" Hermione teased.

Ron reconsidered, "Well, maybe not the most intense."

"I am curious," claimed the King good-naturedly. "For such young men, you two have seen much. What is the most intense thing you have ever seen, Ron Weasley?"

"Hmmm..." Ron considered out loud, "There was the time we broke into Gringotts in London and stole their Dragon. We mounted it and flew it out of the bank."

Antiones seemed impressed, "You mounted and rode full grown dragon? That _is_ intense."

"Not as intense as when Harry finally faced Voldemort. I wasn't prepared for all of the death around us. All of my family and mates were in danger. And then Harry was dead. And then he wasn't. And then Harry faced him down..." Ron's voice trailed off. The champions continued to warm up.

"Harry died? How did he die?"

Ron sighed. Antiones could tell Ron was losing interest but he was obviously finishing the story out of respect for the king, "He walked out into the forest and stood there and allowed Voldemort to strike him down in cold blood. He wasn't actually dead but everybody thought he was. He should have been. They carried his limp body out of the forest and showed him off like a trophy to his family and friends. And then Harry came back to life."

"That's incredible."

"He gets that a lot."

"What happened then?"

Ron looked over the king to Harry who was now a bright shade of red. Harry tried to divert attention by calling a scribe over to handle a last minute wager. The scribe looked unsure as Harry used his wand to pull a large amount of gold out of what seemed like a never ending coin purse. Ron tried to wrap things up, "Harry struck him down. He faced Voldemort – the deadliest wizard in Europe and he stalked him like a cat stalks its prey."

Ron was relieved to see Antiones was finally distracted by Harry, "Who did you place that wager on?"

"The winner," Harry cheeked.

Ron razzed Harry, "Oy, you are going to get the lot of us beheaded, you are."

"Well, if _you_ lot were watching the warm-ups instead of going on about me like I wasn't here then you'd know who to wager on too." Harry was not at all playful but he faked his best smile so as to act like it.

Antiones looked up at the rafters and noted the odds as they moved quickly in opposite directions, "Just how much did you wager, Harry?"

"A few thousand."

"That would explain the large movement in the odds," the King noted. "Most don't make wagers larger than maybe twenty or maybe fifty Drachma. The opponent's fans must feel like they are getting a bargain."

Indeed, many in the crowd were pointing at the rafters and rushing to call for the scribes. The scribes scurried to get in as many wagers as possible before the match began. Antiones also called for a scribe but instead of placing a wager on the opponent he requested, "Come to me just before the match begins."

He then looked to Ron and asked, "How much are you wagering?"

"Maybe twenty. You?"

Antiones thought to himself and then decided out loud, "Five hundred." His wife clucked her tongue and he reconsidered, "Two hundred." Her lips were still pursed but she looked like she was somewhat appeased. Very soon the scribe came back and by then the odds had returned to something more palatable at 2 to 1. When Harry initially made his wager it had driven his choice down to 10 to 8 meaning a bet of eighty gold would pay back only one hundred gold if his Champion won. Before Harry's wager the odds had been at 3 to 1 for his champion.

The odds for both champions had shrunk as they won each match but Pjeter's had improved significantly because he had won each match in resounding fashion. As it was, Harry's initial wager the first night of ten Galleons on Pjeter would win 140 Galleons provided that Pjeter won tonight. Harry felt he'd win much more than that with this wager.

The match soon began much like Pjeter's first match – meaning it started with no action. All the same, the Arena was filled with a fog of anticipation as Rhonin of Olympia squared off against Pjeter of Vlore. The crowd watched in silence as each Champion circled one another looked for an opening.

Pjeter had once again chosen his tremendous hammer and his long sword was strapped to his back. He wore no armour but this time he'd opted against the tunic. His only cover was a loin cloth.

Rhonin had a broad sword in his right hand and a shield protected his left flank. He had a spare short-sword sheathed at his belt. He was covered in armour but it looked much lighter and flexible that what he worn previous nights. It looked to be almost a puffy leather – as if it had been padded to absorb the blows of the hammer.

As Pjeter and Rhonin continued to circle each other warily in the centre of the arena, Antiones whispered to Harry, "Why? Why did I just wager 200 Drachma?"

Harry began to speak but paused. Pjeter had feigned a step forward and Rhonin went on guard. Both eventually relaxed and Harry answered, "You notice how Pjeter is shirtless?" Antiones nodded. "He's shirtless because he wants Rhonin to see his scar. He wants Rhonin to know he's not afraid of his sword. Pjeter's telling Rhonin that even if he gets close enough to strike he _will_ be crushed."

The Olympian, Rhonin, reluctantly stepped in to strike. He swiped low with the sword as if going for Pjeter's legs as each of his other opponents had done. Rhonin's sword didn't even come close - he was forced to duck low under the swing of the giant's hammer before he could extend. Even so, before Pjeter could complete his follow through and take another swing, Rhonin had rolled harmlessly out of reach and was mentally dusting himself off.

As if he was part of the action, Ron jerked back in his chair, "Rhonin didn't give himself much room there. He nearly had his bell rung."

Antiones nodded, "He barely got out of there in time. He tries that again and he's dead." The king thought about what Harry had said, "OK, so Pjeter was intimidating Rhonin. Why does that matter?"

"Because until tonight Pjeter's all but ignored his opponent. Every match to now he's known he was better than his opponent. I think tonight he's worried."

Rhonin made as if to swipe low again and even took a step in but this time he didn't even bother to use his sword. Pjeter lowered his shoulder and took a low heavy swing with the hammer but Rhonin easily stepped back out of the way. The two quickly returned to circling around the edge of the perimeter.

Ron grasped what Harry was getting at, "I saw that! Rhonin saw Pjeter's scar and grinned – tipping his helmet. Rhonin wasn't intimidated all."

Rhonin leaped forward. This time Pjeter swung low so that Rhonin wouldn't have room to duck. Rhonin did not go low after all. He was ready for Pjeter.

Unbeknownst to those watching, Rhonin's first two attacks had been an attempt to time Pjeter's swing. This time from out of his crouch he leaped over the hammer. The hammer was so long and so large that Pjeter couldn't raise it enough to compensate. It was futile. As Rhonin returned to the ground he pushed his sword with all his might into the exposed side of his opponent. The sword went clear through the giant's body.

A lesser man would have fallen to the ground. Pjeter, though, was of Herculean strength and fortitude. He stumbled at first but turned his hips hard – which forced the sword out of Rhonin's hands. Pjeter then dropped his hammer and lunged at Rhonin - grabbing the smaller champion by the throat with his bare hands. He lifted Rhonin up and began to shake him like a large doll.

"That was unexpected..." Harry said as he and his mates watched in amazement. Harry imagined that Pjeter was shaking Harry's galleons out of Rhonin's pockets.

Pjeter continued to raise Rhonin higher and higher into the air. The smaller warrior swung wildly as the giant shook him time and again, trying to snap his neck. The giant shook once, then twice and then again. How the Olympian fought past the instinct to flail around nobody knew but Rhonin had the mind to reach and reach for his second sword. Finally he caught hold of the sword and pulled it out of it's sheath. When Rhonin had the sword free, he ran it through the giant's throat. Pjeter stumbled back - releasing Rhonin - and both collapsed to the ground.

At first it looked as if Rhonin was unconscious but Rhonin's body flinched and he pushed himself up by an arm and then a shoulder. Pjeter, on the other hand, jerked around as the blood filled his airway and choked him and he quickly passed out. The match was won.

Immediately healers jumped up to help them both. Ron and Harry didn't know what to do. Neither felt applause was in order and the sombre look of the King told them that their instincts were good. Pjeter was sprawled out and looked as if he was dead. Rhonin was now on a knee and he seemed to be watching his opponent with a look of worry. The healers worked quickly while the crowd watched silently. Finally, the Vloren was placed on a gurney, and a healer stepped forward to comment as he was carried out, "He is not well but it appears he will live." The crowd relaxed a little and a quiet applause followed him out of the chamber.

Once Pjeter was safely out of the arena, King Antiones allowed the celebration to begin. He met the last remaining champion, Rhonin of Olympia, in the circle...now covered in blood. Antiones's voice boomed with the equivalent of a Sonorous charm and he congratulated both Rhonin and his sponsor, the future king, for their success in Greek, "As is the custom, tomorrow we shall crown our new King, Pelleus of Olympia. We look forward to seeing all of you at Feast and the Ball."

And at that he returned to his table. Harry and Ron was settling with the scribe and Lydia was speaking about something quietly with Hermione and those in her entourage. The scribe was completing the transaction with no emotion at all – it wasn't his gold, "That is fifteen thousand and forty Drachma, Master."

King Antiones was visibly shaken. He tried to hide it but Hermione caught it. He placed his hand on the young wizard's shoulder, "Harry, that is quite a sum there." Hermione wanted to say something but the queen quietly shook her head no.

Ron settled next and was returned his twenty Drachma along with twenty more. Ron looked like he'd won the tournament himself. Until he'd won the Order of Merlin and the stipend that came with it, this was more gold than he had ever held in his life at one time.

The king settled last. Four hundred Drachma was obviously a large sum because the Queen held her breath as the scribe stacked it for them ten coins at a time. But even with his two hundred Drachma in winnings, Antiones was unusually quiet. Hermione again caught him sneaking a look at the large stack of Harry's across the table and wincing. By this time even Harry noticed the change in mood and he looked worriedly to Hermione. She signalled she'd explain later.

And later came quickly. The King excused himself and his wife and they retired for the evening. Ron and Harry followed Hermione out after he had shovelled the coins into the expandable coin purse that she had given him as a gift the year before.

As they walked back to their rooms she seemed to keep a watchful eye for others. When she was sure they were alone, she turned on Harry and threw up her hands, "Since when do you carry five thousand Galleons on you? And since when do you decide to bet away five _thousand_ Galleons like it is nothing?"

Ron stepped back a few steps. He'd seen this look before.

"I didn't think anything of it. I never know when I need a little gold when I am travelling. How much do you think I spent when we went to Australia last? Besides, five thousand is nothing compared to what is in the vault at Gringotts," Harry explained.

"He's right about that," Ron thought out loud. "At the rate the goblins' investments are paying off, Harry probably made five thousand Galleons since dinner, Hermione." Ron's logic was rewarded with a steely stare.

"What's really wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked cautiously, "I saw the look on Antiones's face when they were counting out the gold. I saw yours as well. Did I offend him?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, "You drove him broke. Well, not him, but the country. Many of those nobles wagered large sums thinking they had favourable odds. A few won some. It normally wouldn't matter because one noble's loss is another noble's gain. But gold is different than paper money – the Hellene trade their gold for goods with other countries just as we do. Have you noticed that most of their goods are not foreign made? That is because while gold trades the same rate here as it does in other countries...one Talent equals one Drachma equals one Galleon...gold is worth much more here than it is in other countries. One gold buys a few Butterbeers and a dinner in England and much of Europe. A gold buys a hundred or so pints of mead and weeks of dinner here. The Hellene just don't offer much to trade that other countries want."

"So, I could buy a nice house here with this is what you are saying?" Harry asked.

"Harry!" Hermione threw her hands up again and screamed out of exasperation. She stopped, looked around, and then spoke quietly but sharply, "You could buy this whole Palace!" She tried to calm down before explaining further, "It's not that you have all of their gold. But that gold accounts for probably 5-10% of all in circulation in Greece. Imagine if in England, people suddenly spent 5-10% less all around."

Ron watched her as she began to pace while mumbling to herself, "I can't believe they even let you wager such a large sum...I guess because they were scribes...they just handle the wagers...It's probably never happened...the other people bet the odds back down...And Antiones, he knew, but he saw an opportunity...He probably figured if Harry was betting such an astronomical sum that he must know something and he saw it as easy gold." Finally she looked up at Harry, "If we leave here with all of that gold it'll be the same for them as it was for us right after the fall of Voldemort. It may take them two years to get out from under this mess."

"What should we do?" asked Harry.

"I don't know but I'll think of something. Let's hope that they don't realise who won all of the gold before tomorrow. If a few are smart enough and angry enough, or ambitious enough, they may try to kill us in our sleep."


	11. TP 11 A Worthy Trade

**Chapter 11 – A Worthy Trade**

**Submitted: Monday 27 February 2012 Last Submission: Monday 20 February 2012**

Luckily, no-one visited Hermione or her mates in their sleep that night. She did dream that the Minister was waiting for them in England with arms crossed, "How is it we are at war with the Greeks, Hermione? You let me down." She woke up with tears in her eyes - begging the Minister to forgive her.

The witch that stared at Hermione from the mirror the next morning had deep dark circles under her eyes. She decided to visit her mates' room. When she got there she found that Ron was still sleeping and but Harry's bed was empty. The events of the previous evening still weighed heavily on her and she decided to seek out Queen Lydia for advice. She didn't know how she'd go about discussing the matter because admitting she was aware of the Greeks' predicament would be uncomfortable for all.

When she arrived at the King's and Queen's chambers she was granted an immediate audience. She was surprised to find Harry sitting opposite of Antiones, Queen Lydia and the future king. Beside Harry stood his advisor from Gringotts. The goblin, bored, asked, "Will that be all?" Harry nodded and the goblin disapparated away. Pelleus, the future king, also excused himself, bowing kindly to Hermione and Queen Lydia and thanking Harry on his way out.

"I must have missed something significant," Hermione mused after the Olympian nearly skipped out.

Antiones grinned, "Tonight after the Coronation, Pelleus is going to speak to the nobles that attended the matches this week and announce that he negotiated a trade for the ten thousand Drachma that Harry won last night."

"He isn't returning the money to _them_, is he?" Hermione looked worried.

Lydia cut in, "No, a wager is a wager. Harry has agreed to give half to the Treasury and half to the school in Olympia with the provision that all be spent by the end of the year."

"What did you ask for in exchange?" Hermione asked Harry.

"Rights to the Necklace of Harmonia," he answered with a grin of his own. "As it turns out, the necklace is the one relic that the Hellene would readily part ways with. None wants to risk the chance that it will be found again and cause more heartache."

Lydia smiled, "Pelleus even agreed to sign an edict that if Harry finds the necklace then the Hellene relinquish all rights to it. The necklace will belong to Harry and any of his heirs to do with as he wishes."

Antiones sighed, "Pelleus will return home a hero. He will give up something his city did not want in the first place and will have funnelled five thousand Drachma into the Olympian economy through the Academy. If he's smart, he'll divide the other five thousand amongst the other city states as a show that he is completely impartial. That will give him a tremendous amount of political capital as he begins his reign as King. If I'd had such a windfall drop into my lap when I began..."

Lydia clucked her tongue, "You did not do so bad for yourself, dear. I believe a few hundred Drachma made their way into your coin purse as well."

"True," the king admitted a little more cheerily. "I fear I must excuse myself. I must inspect the arrangements for this evening."

When the king was out of earshot the queen spoke much more plainly, "That was a very kind thing for you to do, young tyrant. My husband worried all night that his reign would end on a sour note. He has been such a good king – it would have been unfair. Just please don't let him or anyone else know that you made the trade for our sake."

Hermione hugged Harry, "How did you think of it?" Harry shrugged.

"He stole a question from the Oracle," answered the Queen knowingly.

"What?" Hermione asked. "How?"

* * *

><p>Harry couldn't sleep. After rolling around in his bed for at least an hour, he dressed and wandered the halls. Eventually he found himself at the entrance of the Palace and he decided the cool air would do him good. He wondered if he'd be in any trouble if he came across a guard or a servant. The halls were empty so he had to believe it was at least frowned upon.<p>

He quickly found himself in front of the Tempe of Apollo. Wondering if the temple would even be open at this hour, he placed a Drachma in the Treasury. The door was not locked when he tried it.

There was just enough light to move around inside. The chair ahead of him was empty and the fumes turned his stomach but he continued forward anyway. When he reached the steps in front of the chair and the altar he was inspired to kneel before them like he'd seen his uncle and aunt do during the occasion he'd attended Mass. There he stood on his knees not knowing what he was doing or why.

"Have you come for your question?" asked a familiar voice from behind. He turned to find the Oracle approach with sleepy eyes and dishevelled robes, "I felt your presence as you approached the Temple."

"I didn't plan to visit. I just kind of arrived." Harry watched as she climbed up awkwardly on her chair. He felt strange to be on his knees before her and he stood up.

Harry could feel the Oracle look within him, "No, you haven't come to ask your question at all. You have an entirely different question on your mind. That is not a question you should ask of _me_."

"I don't understand," complained Harry. "I was told that you have never in memory spoken to a visitor except to answer his question. I have also been told that no-one has ever been refused a question however foolish it may be. I have been told that the Oracle never asks her own questions."

"Then what is your question?" asked the Oracle darkly. "You have woken me. You have taken me from a beautiful dream. What would you have me answer you at this unreasonable hour and I will answer and speak to you no more."

Harry regretted his rudeness. He too was tired and he knew he wouldn't get sleep until he solved his problem. Still, he knew what he must do, "You spoke to me a great deal about love. You said that I knew how to give love but that until I learned the second act of love that I would not be able to have a meaningful relationship. I must be missing something because I love all of my friends. I try to be generous but often times my friends refuse my generosity. What is this second act of love?"

A smile crept across the Oracles face, "Ahh, you made it worth my waking after all. A most wise choice of questions." She looked Harry in the eye, "Harry, you have more love to give than any three men. It is your greatest quality and your greatest weapon...But no-one has properly shown you how to accept what you so freely give." She paused, "Accepting is as important as giving. When you refuse to accept a gift, young tyrant, you deny the one you love of the joy of giving. Consider this."

"But that is obvious," exclaimed Harry.

"Is it?" asked the Oracle. "Then why is it that you could not accept compliments from Ginny? Or from any of your friends? Why is it that you cannot trust your closest friend enough to tell her about the one you have been spending evenings with?"

"I'm protecting my mates. And most of the compliments..."

"...I know your heart and your mind, young Harry," she interrupted. "I have seen inside you and I know that you are still the lonely boy that was forced to sleep inside that cupboard – only now the cupboard is your head. If you wish to live outside the cupboard with your friends and the ones you love then you must learn to let others into your mind...and into your heart. You must let others worry about you and feel your pain. You must stop taking those long lonely walks into the wilderness and begin strolling along the streets with your friends."

"That is all?" Harry asked.

"You want more? I have answered your question. What you do with the answer is up to you." The Oracle turned away as she had the time before.

"Wait," Harry tried to get her attention. "I need help with another problem. I made a mess of things during the Games. It's really foolish but I don't know how to solve the problem without either hurting a large group of people or offending a new mate that I have grown very fond of. What do I do?"

Silence.

"Brilliant," he said under his breath. "Well, then I'll leave the gold in the Treasury and I will let you parse it out as you see fit." He turned on his heals to leave, "Hopefully by the time you pass it out the panic won't have spread too far."

"Wait," answered the Oracle from behind him with a sigh, "Do this instead."

* * *

><p>Hermione listened as Harry explained the Oracle's solution, "We need the necklace and it is well worth the gold. It made sense to offer a trade."<p>

"And everyone is happy with the solution?" Hermione asked.

Lydia smiled, "As far as my husband and everyone else knows, Harry has poor taste in jewellery. Now enough of this. My husband will be done with his inspections soon and will want to enjoy himself with his toys and his newfound friends. What say you find your friend and meet him at the archery range, young tyrant? Hermione and I have a morning sunning at the baths to look forward to."

"Are you sure?" asked Hermione. "Will we not be an imposition as you make arrangements for this evening?"

Lydia brushed Hermione's question away with her hand, "My ladies in waiting will handle the arrangements. The planning has already been done. We have the day to ourselves. But you can help me with a small problem I have."

And with that, plans for the day were made and everyone went their separate ways.

* * *

><p>Harry and Ron looked on as Antiones drew the string of his bow, "No better feeling than when the arrow jumps off the string. The anticipation. The power." There was a loud "thwack" as his arrow struck the centre of his target.<p>

"Oy! How do you do that from so far away?" asked Ron, "That must be a hundred feet!"

"Feet?" asked the king.

The wizards explained that it was a unit of measure and Ron pointed to his own foot to give context. This confused Antiones even more, "But everyone's foot is a different size." After several more attempts at explanation, and the target, Harry and Ron finally gave up. No matter how many demonstrations the king's servant gave they simply couldn't hit their target. They even aimed from just feet away but neither could get the feel necessary.

"Maybe I should stick to swords," Harry grumbled after his final shot.

"Me too," lamented Ron as his arrow went wide right.

Antiones aimed at a target much further away, "Harry, you will likely get plenty of help from Pelleus in this matter but I feel I should tell you what I know." The arrow struck true and this drew admiration from the boys. "I'm no an expert when it comes to the necklace you are looking for but I have made inquiries. The general feeling is that it has returned to Olympia but nobody knows for sure where. I've been told that you will at least find clues there. If you feel Pelleus isn't as forthcoming as he has promised then let me know. I will make sure he honours his word."

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely.

"You're welcome," the king answered. "I must admit, when your Minister asked if you could come in his stead I was disappointed. Honestly, though, I don't think I've ever had as good a time as I have this week with you and your friends. You've been so interested in our culture and the Games that it has renewed an interest in me as well. Normally when we have visitors they look down on our customs as behind the times and backwards."

Ron could no longer contain his curiosity, "Not to change the subject but how is it that you lot are on a first name basis? Everyone else refers to you as 'Your Majesty' or 'King.'"

Harry shrugged and the king gave his signature hearty laugh, "I don't think he's ever used my formal title. When we were introduced, he called me by my name and I made it a point to call him by his first name – over-stressing it as a hint. I don't think he ever got it. He just kept on and I kept on. By the end of the Feast the first evening we were on a first name basis."

"You prefer me to use your title?" Harry asked. Ron sniggered and Harry cocked an eyebrow, "Should I be more formal?"

Antiones laughed again, "It's oddly refreshing. I'd rather you continue as you have. I won't be king by end of evening anyhow."

* * *

><p>Hours later, Harry and his mates sat in the arena with the Hellene as Ronin stood before two women. Each woman was bowed on one knee. Rhonin gently removed the crown from Lydia's head and he placed it on his fellow Olympian, the Queen Elect Medeia. The two ladies stood up and bowed to each other, returning to their seats as the crowd cheered.<p>

King Antiones and Pelleus stood up and made their way to the front. They bowed to each other. Unlike the former queen and her successor, both kings showed an open hand with the palm clearly visible. Hermione explained with a whisper, "They are formally showing that they bear no arms and come in friendship." Both men then took the others hand and shook it. They then bowed as their wives had done before. The Champion removed the crown from Antiones's head and placed it on that of King Elect Pelleus.

The former king stood before Pelleus and he gave him his blessing in Greek, "May Hellas become even stronger with your guidance." King Pelleus stood before the former king, again extending his hand. They both shook, finally hugging, and the crowd erupted in applause even louder than before. Ron looked at his mates as he too clapped, "That is how it should be done everywhere."

Harry agreed, "If only."

The Ball that followed was extraordinary in its own right but Ron believed Harry had more reason than most to be cheerful. Before Harry and his mates stood a maiden from each city state. Ron gushed on about each of the young ladies until Hermione took matters into her own hands, "Ron, you are an insufferable pig. If I hear one more comment from you about legs or how 'that bird is fit' then you will be dancing with a limp. I'm seriously beginning to regret that I invited you here in the first place." The two began to bicker in earnest from there.

Meanwhile, Harry felt pressure to choose a first dance partner. Lydia stood next to him and watched him carefully, "Maybe thirty-two was too many?"

The maidens didn't seem to mind. That they had been selected to have a dance with the Guest of Honour was enough for many of them. Most had no clue why such a fuss was made of this young bloke with the unusual scar but they cared little. Whichever one was selected would have a story to tell when they returned home. Harry, on the other hand, seemed extremely embarrassed that such a fuss was made for him. Hermione had spent the past few mornings sunning at the baths and helping Lydia along with Harry's 'type."

During Hermione's description of his previous girlfriend, it came out that she had red hair like his mum. "We'll have none of that here," Lydia replied, "We have a name for a man who favours women that are like his mother."

"Ewww," Hermione made a face. "Well, while I can't tell you too much about his likes I can tell you what he doesn't like. He doesn't like easy criers...emotional types. It makes him uncomfortable. He doesn't like weak. He doesn't like to talk much himself. He doesn't like a lot of attention. And he doesn't like to move too fast."

The Queen considered, "A strong willed maiden that doesn't mind quiet and doesn't want her husband in the public eye. I'm certain the country-side is teaming with that sort."

Hermione giggled, "A challenge indeed."

And it had been a challenge. Now, Lydia was losing patience with her guest. Hermione had drug Ron away to have more pointed words and so they were alone. He was obviously overwhelmed so Lydia tried to move him along, whispering, "You can dance with more than one. In fact, you can dance with all of them if you so choose."

He took the hint and finally chose what Lydia considered to be the least desirable of the lot. She had skin so fair that her freckles were obvious. Her hair was light brown. There was nothing remarkable about her figure and the queen complained to Antiones once Harry began dancing that she really didn't even have business among the other maidens in the lineup.

Antiones laughed, "Then why was she?"

"Hermione picked her when we were choosing from among the Corinthians. She said it would be good to have some variety," his wife grumbled.

"It seems your new friend knows the boy well. The couple appears to be getting on well," Antiones observed. Indeed, Harry and the young maiden danced enthusiastically. The young maiden was helping him with the steps and he was doing well – he seemed to actually be enjoying himself. Lydia, though, was not as happy, "I'd hoped he'd take to Megara."

"Your friend Sophronia's daughter?"

"She's had her eyes on him since he arrived. Sophie asked me if I might try and match them up. He didn't so much as look her way," Lydia complained.

"Why didn't you simply introduce the two instead of going to all of this trouble?"

His only answer was a glare as hard as the marble that surrounded them.

Antiones was as good a husband as any. When there was a short break in the music he tactfully took Harry to the side, "May I trouble you for a favour?" When Harry nodded the Antiones cleared his throat, "My wife had hoped you'd take a liking to the young maiden over there." Antiones didn't go into specifics but explained, "Normally I wouldn't ask but my wife is taking this transition harder than she lets on. Your friend has been a great distraction this week but it is still difficult. And for her to have you to try and pair up...well...you will one day understand."

Harry made right for the young maiden but Antiones stopped him, "No, not yet. After a few dances. If she knows I intervened...It must seem like it happened by chance."

So Harry went back to dancing with the 'freckled girl' as Lydia began calling her. Secretly Antiones smiled as his wife continued to complain that her plans had gone awry. He soon learned the young maiden's name was Selena and that her family only had a small piece of land in Corinth. It wasn't too long, though, before his wife let out a girlish squeal, "He's speaking to her! "He's speaking to Meg!"

He never let on that he'd asked for the dance as a favour. He had to admit she was a splendid dancer and her eyes sparkled when the torches caught them as she spun. The dance was simple but fast paced and soon both were winded from the effort. Megara pulled Harry off the floor and they collapsed into chairs far away from the crowds. Megara's chest still heaved from the exertion so that she spoke in pants, "You know, it wasn't until two centuries ago...that our men danced with women. Dance is considered sacred...among us...and we considered it vulgar...to dance with with the opposite sex."

"Really?" Harry asked – getting his breath back. She nodded, "There was the Geronos. All of the most desirable young maids would dance with the eligible young men linked like a chain. We touched by the wrists...like this," she demonstrated.

Harry noticed how she used her wrist and then a finger to trace along his own wrist and then up his arm to the elbow. He found her alluring in an exotic sort of way – wavy black hair, olive skin, prominent nose and large pouty lips. She hadn't even been the third witch that he noticed but as he considered her more closely he couldn't help think that she was the embodiment of feminine. Her skin even reminded him of Cho.

"You leave tomorrow?" Meg asked. Harry nodded. "Do you plan to return?" This time he replied with a shrug and then a non-commital nod yes. "Soon?" He shrugged again. "I see," she finally replied after a moment of consideration.

"I've asked Antiones to help me search for a small vacation villa," Harry confided in her. "I like it here."

Meg nodded and continued to trace along his forearm.

"Why do you like me?" he asked abruptly. It wasn't like him but it was eating him up inside.

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked as if offended by the assumption. She softened when she saw the almost boyish curiosity in his face, "I...like your eyes. And the way you act around the king. You don't seem afraid of anything."

"That's as far from the truth as anything..." he said to himself more than to her. She must have mistranslated his English because she looked angry. "No, I'm sorry. I said that wrong. I mean, if you knew me better you wouldn't think I'm unafraid of anything." He thought again to himself and came out with what he really wanted to ask, "What do you know about me?"

"I know the king and queen like you very much. There is word that you are important in your England. But you do not treat people like you are better than them." She thought more, "You enjoy risk and danger."

"Why do you say that? The last part?"

"To make such a large wager? The people speak. And the Servants saw you wander the halls and the outdoors at night without fear. You know little of swords but the trainers say you showed no reluctance and stood your ground when facing even the most skilled of trainers. I watched you ride the chariot with reckless abandon the first time you took the reins. You enjoy danger."

"And you enjoy danger?" Harry asked.

"If I were caught kissing you in the halls of the palace I'd be whipped by my father for consorting with a foreigner...a barbarian," she smirked. "I've dreamed of the prospect all afternoon. In fact, he's likely glaring at us from across the room right now."

The room was filled with 'ooohs' and 'aaaahs' of the maidens as the band began to play a furious tune. Crowds raced up to the floor and groups of four – either men or women but not mixed – embraced at the shoulders and danced in a line. As the strings of what still reminded Harry of a guitar played more quickly and more furiously, each group would kick their feet in sync with one another. The steps were fast and sometimes the kicks were high. The highest kicks would generate applause from a throng of onlookers that had circled the floor and clapped in rhythm with the music. Even Meg had begun clapping and she pulled Harry up to join the circle that cheered the dancers on.

Harry could tell she wanted to join a line in the centre of the floor but she stuck with him and clapped away. She had a vitality to her he noticed was beginning to grow on him. She really wasn't what he would describe as his ideal but right now he was just living in the moment.

The music continued to build and build. The lines of men and women now had taken on an organised formation and they followed each other on the floor in a circular fashion – each group stepping quickly and clicking their heals and occasionally kicking high when the notes of the music warranted it. With each high kick the crowd would shout a word Harry did not understand. The clapping became quicker and more frantic. The song was building and then it ended with a round of shouting with joy.

"Come with me," Megara called out just over the noise of the crowd. "I'll show you something."

As they broke away amidst the chaos of the crowd he watched her deftly nick a bottle of wine and some glasses from an empty table. It wasn't long before they'd exited the palace altogether and were stepping down the hill that marked the entrance of the township of the Delphian Tyrants. Again, it wasn't nearly as steep as it seemed it should be and they stepped down with ease. At the end Harry found himself at the ruins of ancient Delphi.

Megara stopped for a moment and closed her eyes as she placed her hand on her necklace. The ruins of the Tholos lit up with lanterns that rested on each of the broken pillars. Hermione and the Queen had done more than merely match Harry with a young maiden – they'd arranged an evening. Music could be heard from a Muggle village below the ruins...it was a careful ballad played on a stringed instrument. Megara couldn't contain her excitement – she ran to the ruins. When Harry caught up to her she'd already put down the wine and the glasses and kicked off her shoes, "Dance with me."

Harry grew worried. While he wasn't even sure what he felt about Eliza he didn't want Megara to get the wrong idea. He remembered the misunderstanding he'd had with Eliza the first night out. They swayed back and forth as the music played and her head rested on his shoulder. "Erm, I don't know how to bring this up but...well...erm...I've never...well..."

Megara pulled back and shot Harry a sharp look, "What do you take me for? A kargiola?"

"It's just that I didn't want to give the wrong idea..." Harry trailed off.

Megara pouted, "I brought you here because I have never kissed a man from a foreign land. I'd like to know what it is like." She blushed, "I am curious. And I like you. You have kind eyes and I've wanted to run my hands through your hair since the moment I first saw you." Her words were still sharp but she placed her head back on his shoulder, "Now dance with me."

They danced more like a young couple at a school dance than adults at a Ball. He placed his arms around the small of her back and she placed her arms on his shoulders and they circled around with small steps while she again rested her head on his shoulder. A new song started as the previous one faded off. "This is Giorgos Mazonakis," she sighed, "The citizens below play this song often. It is so beautiful. The first time I heard it I had to sneak down and find the musician. Kiss me. I want my first kiss to be to this song."

Harry glanced down at her. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about snogging some witch he barely knew.

"Oy. Don't be so stiff. It's just a kiss. It's not like I'm asking you to marry me."

Harry tried to kiss her but it was awkward. He noticed that the Greeks approached a kiss slightly differently. She turned her head differently and the approach was all funny. He pulled back before their lips met and her face became a mask of disappointment. Harry wondered if it was right to kiss her. He had a girlfriend. Her family wouldn't approve. He was rubbish when it came to this sort of thing.

But the music took over. And her eyes sparkled like polished onyx. He decided to live in the moment. 'After all, it's only a kiss,' he decided. This time he took total control. He took her head gently into his hands and turned her head softly. As he brought his lips to hers he closed his eyes. He felt her pull herself into him. The music set the rythm and he felt his heart beat with it.

It was only a kiss. But then so was the next one. And the next. The two spent the night dancing slowly above the village below and they filled the silence between songs with tender kiss after kiss.

**A/N: The song referred to in this chapter can be found on youtube. It was submitted by newoceanflower1 if you wish to listen to it. It was written by Giorgios Mazonakis in 1999 and according to the submission is called _Apopse tha Sonereiutw. _ I chose it because it was #1 on the pop charts in Greece in 1999 and it sounded appropriate for a young girl of her time. I hope you enjoyed this set of chapters as much as I've enjoyed writing them. Please let me know what you think.**


	12. TP 12 Unnamed Sources

**Chapter 12 – Unnamed Sources**

**Submitted: Thursday 1 March 2012 Last Submission: Monday 27 February 2012**

The Sitting Room was full of old schoolmates and their companions. Hermione had invited a large group to Grimmauld Place for dinner and the opportunity to hear about the trip to Greece. There was even talk that there'd be dancing later in the evening downstairs. Harry had finally acknowledged Eliza publicly and she had been invited. With them were Ron and Hermione, George and Angelina, Bill and Fleur, Luna and Rufus, Seamus and Dean with their dates, and several Aurors with their wives or husbands. Even Hannah left the Cauldron to her employees for the evening and came with her husband Neville.

Ron recounted the stories of the final few sword fights as the blokes were huddled over a game of chess. Seamus seemed particularly interested in the action and he'd often interrupt Ron with questions. The witches, on the other hand, were huddled on the other side of the room on couches and chairs as they barraged Eliza with questions about the status of her relationship with Harry.

"I don't know," she finally admitted, looking over the witches' shoulders at Harry across the room. "It's such a big secret that he hasn't even told me." She found herself studying her shoes, "He's a quiet one. It's hard to know what's on his mind at any given moment."

The silence her observation brought was broken up by groans and raucous cheers from across the room. Hermione called over to the blokes, "There'd better not be any Galleons wagered on that match!" Her threatening voice was no match for the feigned contempt that came from the blokes, "Shut it! It's a fair match!" Ron had been convinced to take on a trio of Aurors who'd claimed for months they could beat him as a team. The trio was now huddled in a corner and pointing to the board while whispering like schoolgirls. Finally deciding on a move, they returned to the board to find their king waiting impatiently, "Pray tell that ye offer a better move than last. Otherwise the battle be lost!"

Meanwhile, the witches' attention had returned to Eliza and the article in Witch Weekly that had broke the news. Finally, after several questions, "You do realise that they are running an interview tonight on the Wizard Wide Network that I did this morning? I answered all of these same questions. I think it starts in about an hour."

"I heard something about that," one of the Auror's wives announced. "You'd have thought they'd have made more noise about it considering everything."

"The bloke that did the interview isn't well known. That and it was very last minute. They dropped by my flat this morning with some Muggle contraption and did the whole thing. I don't know how they are going to get it to work on the WWN. I've always assumed everything on the Wizard Wide Network was done live."

Liza had become quite the celebrity in the space of a week. The story had broke the day Ron left for Greece. It had started when a young writer named Sean had happened upon Eliza and asked her about her time with Harry. He'd seemed to be knowledgeable about their meeting so she didn't mind. In fact, she was thrilled that their relationship was finally out in the open. She'd grown tired of huddling up in her flat and eating quiet dinners followed by snogging. She wouldn't mind the snogging but she knew it wasn't leading to anything more than restless sleep. Now, they could be around others and perhaps have a proper relationship.

The witches plotted. It was decided they'd drag the blokes downstairs to dance and then they'd return to the sitting room in time to listen to the interview on the wireless. Their plan took life when a mixture of cheers and groans was followed by the exchange of coins. Ron looked particularly pleased with himself as three Aurors grumbled that they'd been duped.

"Let's dance!" the witches announced and one by one they dragged their partners down the stairs. A vintage phonograph was summoned and the table and chairs that had been used for dinner were banished to their appropriate storage places. When the home had been renovated the year before Harry's decorator had taken special pains on this part of the home. The wood floors shined brightly from the glowing gems of the chandelier that served as the primary source of light. As the music began, the gems would shine different greens and blues and reds. The chandelier acted not unlike a disco ball might in a dance hall.

Hermione couldn't help but play the Weird Sisters. Despite her friendship with the members of Witch's Brew, Hermione still secretly clung to the Weird Sisters as her favourite band. Their most recent release, _**Witch Hunt,**_ was very fast paced but it could be danced to and the floor was full of twenty-somethings making an honest try at it. This was followed by a string of the latest wizard and witch hits both fast and slow. Everyone enjoyed the music and dancing but it was common for eyes to be on Eliza and Harry as they were the subject of nearly everyone's curiosity.

The occasional trading of partners occurred and Harry eventually found himself dancing with Fleur, "I don't know how long I can stand everyone's eyes on me."

"Mon Ami, what does eet mattuer? They all love you. They onlee want you to be 'appee." The song was a slow ballad that most treated as a waltz, "Do you like 'er, 'Arry?"

"She's lovely," he confided as he stole a gratuitous glance at his girlfriend's bum.

"Arry!" she walloped him playfully, "All I 'eard is 'Oink oink oink oink, oink!' Do not bee a common peeg like zee others. Zat eez so shallow."

Harry grinned, "Can't I enjoy the mud for just a little while?"

"For a leetle while, 'Arry, but promeese me you weel bee thee 'Arry I love soon. Nobodee loves a peeg, 'Arry."

Soon it was time for the interview and the witches made excuses to return upstairs. When the wireless was turned on, the blokes grumbled amongst themselves and a new set of opponents were found for Ron. As the kings bowed to begin the match a new set of wagers was made. The witches, on the other hand, were huddled around the wireless and the interview was just louder than the din from the blokes' side of the room. Between the cheers and jeers and taunts could be heard a mild mannered voice and that of a young witch.

"_I read the original story. You met him at the Cauldron?" _the interviewer asked.

"_That night. The first time I met him I was falling to my death." _

"_Your death?"_

"_Aye, he snatched me right out of the sky. There isn't a soul in all of England that can ride a broom like him. We were ambushed by Death Eaters over the North Sea and one caught me by surprise high in the air. Just before I hit the water he zoomed in and caught me. You could say that was the day I fell for him."_

A chorus of witches could be heard 'oohing' and 'aahing' in the corner next to the wireless. All eyes were on Eliza who shrugged and blushed. Harry listened from afar while pretending to watch the chess match.

The interviewer continued, _"Interesting choice of words. Obviously, your story received a lot of attention. There is a lot of interest in Harry but even his mates are tight lipped. Witches across England would fancy knowing a little more about him. Do you mind shining a bit of light?"_

"_I'll do my best. He is very private," _Eliza sounded unsure.

"_We'll start with something simple. What is Harry's favourite meal?"_

"_Meal? He's eaten most everything I've placed in front if him with equal enthusiasm. If anything it'd have to be dessert, he can eat his weight in treacle tart."_

"_What is Harry's favourite subject? What do you talk about?" _

"_Me?"_ you could hear Eliza sigh,_ "Really, he doesn't talk about himself or his mates much. Mostly when we talk we talk about me. He's a terrific listener." _Several witches nodded agreement...none more than Hermione but this was obviously not the answer the interviewer wanted. He was fishing for something that hadn't been written before.

You could hear him change gears, _"What is something you know about Harry that he doesn't know you know but he wouldn't get upset with you sharing?"_

Silence is normally something that is abhorred on the radio and wizard wireless is no different. But you could hear the anticipation build in the room and on the airwaves as Eliza wracked her brain for an answer. Only Eliza herself knew what the young witch on the radio was going to , _"That is a good question. I know you want something meaty and personal. The most interesting thing that I know he doesn't know..? He's a shameless prankster." _The radio Eliza paused_, "He's pranked nearly everyone in the Auror office and no-one knows it's him because he never claims credit. And he's good. He's even pranked the Minister."_

"_The Minister?" _This was not a story that had gotten out.

"_Aye, I don't think I'll get him or the Minister in much trouble for telling this story. Understand, the Minister was not fooled because he's daft - he fell for the prank because Harry is very thorough."_

Now it was the interviewers turn to be silent. Eliza took a moment to build the courage to tell the story,_ "Harry met a wizard tourist from Rome in the Auror offices when the Director of International Cooperation was showing him around. The bloke was an older sort and he was fascinated by anything British, The bloke was asking question after question about Harry and his duel with...well, you know." _

_Eliza took a breath, "Well, as any Wizard knows, Harry's least favourite subject is himself. He asks the bloke, 'How would you like to meet the Minister and get a personal tour of England from him?' Who wouldn't, eh? So Harry convinces the Director and the tourist to pretend he is the Minister for Rome. He even takes this bloke shopping and pays for these extravagant robes. Now, I only heard this next part second hand so forgive me if I get the facts slightly out of order but it's been sworn to me that it is true. Are you sure you want me to keep on?"_

"_Certainly," _the interviewer prodded.

"_Right. Well, the Minister dropped everything to give this bloke a tour of England. No place was off limits. Harry was invited to come along as well as the Director. They lunched in London, saw the ruins of Arthur's castle, took brooms over the cliffs of Dover and lastly at the tourist's request they visited Hadrian's wall. Little did the Minister know Harry had convinced the bloke to ask about Hadrian's Wall."_

"_Why was Hadrian's Wall significant? What is it?"_ the interviewer asked.

"_Well, the old bloke had gone on and on during his conversation with Harry in the Auror's office about how his ancestors had helped build the wall. He called it 'the Edge of Romantic Influence.' This gave Harry an idea. When they arrived at Hadrian's Wall, the Roman 'Minister' thanked our Minister for the tour of the northernmost **state** of Rome. He took Minister Shacklebolt by the shoulder and told him that he had done a superb job of defending the Roman borders and he was a brilliant Governor."_ The radio Eliza paused to let the words sink in, _"By the look on your face I gather you know where this is going. Shacklebolt was beside himself. He began shouting about how England was a sovereign nation and that the Roman Minister had no right to insult England in such a fashion. He made to draw his wand but it wasn't in its place. He searched all over his body for his wand and all the while Harry was lost in a fit of laughter. Only then did he realise he'd been had. The Director for International Cooperation was white as a ghost as he tried to calm the Minister down. He explained that the bloke was just a tourist and that Harry had set him up. He begged the Minister to let him keep his job. At first the Minister was angry, of course, but when the Director began to panic he clapped the poor bloke on the back and bellowed, "lighten up Sam, you got me, Now let's get back to the Ministry and call it a day. Only then did Harry return his wand."_

"_Wait,"_ the interviewer asked, _"how did Harry get the Minister's wand?"_

"_You don't know?"_ Eliza's voice was full of shock, _"Harry could lift a Galleon from a Goblin's pocket, He has the most amazing hands."_

"_I can imagine."_ The innuendo dripped off of the interviewer's tongue,_"Why don't we take a short break and when we return you can tell us all more about those brilliant hands."_

A short advert played as the witches began firing off questions. All Eliza would answer was, "I insisted during the break that I wasn't answering any questions about Harry's hands." Before they could get anything more out of her, the music hinted the interview was about to resume.

The interviewer reset the conversation, _"I'm here on the Wizard Wide Network with Eliza McCormick, the witch that returned the smile to England's beloved Harry Potter. She's just offered a fascinating look into Harry and his mischievous side." _The interviewer's tone suggested he was again speaking to Eliza,_"I have a few questions that were asked by real witches, do you mind?"_

"_Ask away." _Eliza answered lightly.

"_If you had one word to describe Harry, what would it be?"_

"_One word? Oh dear. Maybe, Quiet? Smouldering? Intense! Definitely Intense!"_

The interviewer seemed to bait her, _"He doesn't speak much? But he's intense? Explain."_

"_If you could see the Harry I see. He's brilliant. He's a man of action. Most blokes are all talk. They could talk you to death, really. You could spend an entire evening with Harry and not share one word yet you'd wake the next morning to find your toes still curled..."_

"_...So you two have..?" _ the interviewer interrupted. This was the kind of answer the interviewer had hoped for.

"_Oh no! Harry is an absolute gentleman. There may have been a time when the word 'no' was used but Harry and I both have agreed that there are some things we don't wish to do before marriage."_

You could hear the excitement in the bloke's voice, _"So, you two have discussed marriage? At this early a stage."_

A coy denial, _"Oh, please don't put words into my mouth. You don't mind if we change the subject do you?"_ If any of the witches had been watching, they'd have noticed Hannah roll her eyes.

The interviewer could be heard fumbling through some papers, _"Of course. Erm, Sean Campbell, the bloke that broke the original story, shared a preview of another story that will be published about Harry in the morning. He wouldn't go into detail but he said he has an exclusive story about one of Mr. Potter's house elves. He said you might be able to give us a small hint or preview. Care to share?"_ No-one noticed but Hannah's and Harry's eyes met. Panic met anger.

Anyone listening to the interview could hear the confusion in Eliza's voice, _"Erm. No. I don't know anything about Harry's household. I was always taught it was unwise to visit a bloke's home early in a relationship."_

"Isn't that the truth..." one of the witches could be heard grumbling.

"_No worries then. Tell us more about Harry. I know you said he's quiet but he must have a favourite subject..." _Harry heard no more of the interview. He and Hannah had met eyes again and they quickly but separately stepped out of the room and onto the landing. This went unnoticed at first as everyone was either concentrating on the chess match or the interview.

Quickly the scene changed, though. Shouting could be heard from the hall. "She wasn't there Hannah! There's only two people that knew and you are one of them!"

Hannah's voice became shrill, "I didn't tell anyone Harry! You know I wouldn't! How do you know that's what he's going to write about?"

"We talked about it the very same night!" What Harry said next was garbled and no-one could hear...not for lack of trying, of course – everyone in the sitting room was trying at least a little to make out what was said.

Until, "Wait a minute, isn't that bloke Sean a Hufflepuff? He was a year or two ahead of you, wasn't he? And how did he know about Eliza in the first place?"

"I didn't tell him! He came by but I didn't say a thing. He asked a few times. I just assumed he'd heard from a mate of Eliza's that she might have gossiped with."

"Hannah! You're the only one that knew about both. I never told anyone about Liza...not even Ron or Hermione. Fleur was the only one that knew about the elves. And yet, Sean seems to know about both!"

By now Neville had stepped into the hallway. The soft-spoken wizard didn't yell but he could be heard clearly, "We can hear you lot in there...every word. Now, Harry, you've been my mate for some time so I want you to think hard about what you are accusing my wife of. She hasn't even shared any of this rubbish with me so I can't see her chatting up some stranger over it. Let's cool it off while everyone is here and we can chat about it later when there's more privacy."

"I know what I heard Neville..."

There was a thump on the wall. Neville still hadn't raised his voice but his words were very slow and very determined, "Harry, I consider you my best mate. I don't have many. But Hannah is my wife and if she says she didn't do it then I say she didn't do it. I love you Harry but I'm not going to stand and watch you accuse her of lying. You and I know I could snap you in two before you ever got out your wand. Do not make me hurt you. Let it go for now and we'll resolve it later."

Shocked, no-one in the sitting room moved. They could only listen. Quiet words could be heard between Harry and Neville but they couldn't be made out. The tone seemed more sad than upset. Then Neville's voice rose again, "Hannah, get your things and go. I'll meet you at home."

Hannah stepped into the Sitting Room with tears streaming down her face. She quickly gathered her things, avoiding eye contact with anyone, while everyone watched curiously. No-one tried to help her or stop her - they just watched. She stepped up to the mantle, took a pinch of Floo Powder and choked out a sob, "The Leaky Cauldron."

All that came from the hallway now was a quiet murmur. Involuntarily everyone strained to hear. The only thing that could be made out was at the end when Neville declared calmly but angrily, "We'll get down to the bottom of this, Harry, but I confess that I'm disappointed. She loves you like a brother and for you to lose faith in her so easily...you'll see. And when we figure this all out you will owe her one hell of an apology. And if you don't give it to her? Before Merlin and everyone so help me will have your arse!"

With that, Neville whipped through the room like a violent wind. With one fell swoop he grabbed his cloak and the Floo Powder and barked out, "The Leaky Cauldron!" It wasn't lost on anyone that his eyes had been as glassy as his wife's.

Minutes later, Harry crept into the room looking like a beaten dog. He blinked a few times as if he were holding something back. His eyes were red. By now the wireless had been turned off and the game had been abandoned and all eyes were on him. "I regret that I've acted rather poorly. I apologise. Please forgive me but I'm going to head up early."

As he stepped upstairs he could hear Hermione and Ron clear everyone out. What he didn't hear was Hermione coax Eliza upstairs to catch up with Harry, "You might as well, I promise he won't speak to me about it tonight. Maybe you can cheer him up."

And she caught up to him just as he reached his door, "Do you mind if I come in? You've seen my room but I've never seen yours." Reluctantly he opened the door for her and instantly the candles lit. "Oh," she sighed, "So you are a Harpies fan."

"Please, not tonight..." Harry growled. He began to empty his pockets on a night table and he reconsidered his harsh rebuff, "It's not what you think. It was done nearly two years ago and I've just never taken the trouble to repaint it."

Eliza considered him carefully, "You think I don't know you still have feelings for her?" She began to undress him as he just stood there. While she unbuttoned his shirt she explained, "I knew what I was getting into when I sat down next to you at that pub. I knew what I wanted and I wasn't about to wait for it to come to me. Where are your night clothes?" He pointed half-heartedly and she used her wand to summon them from the wardrobe, "Now, let's forget this nonsense and speak about what's really bothering you."

Harry sighed. He didn't feel too forthcoming while standing there in only his pants. She tried again as she helped him into his pyjamas, "Did I come between you and your mate?"

Harry shook his head. The argument between him and Hannah was his doing, "No, but I need to know, did you approach that writer or did he approach you?"

"He approached me."

Again Harry sighed, "Did you tell _anyone_ about us?"

"About what, Harry? About our nearly silent dinners and then our trips to my room where you got me all worked up before you fell asleep?" She looked at him severely, "I've been afraid to tell anyone anything, Harry, unless it all might disappear. You were so secretive that I was afraid if I breathed a word to a soul that you'd deny the whole thing and we'd be done. You never even bothered to tell me you were going to Greece so when you disappeared I thought you might have decided you were bored."

"I'm sorry."

"When Sean came to me and started asking questions I was so excited. I thought you'd finally opened up to a friend. He knew about our entire conversation at the bar. He even asked how I felt about Hannah being angry that I was trying to pick you up. He started talking some rubbish about how Hannah was lonely that night and me coming in ruined some conversation about the Chamber of Secrets. She was trying to build up to say she was _sorry_ about something and _I_ interrupted."

Harry's ears perked up, "That's not something Hannah would have said to him."

"I didn't think so. That's why I thought _you_ had talked to him or one of your mates, maybe. I was just thrilled you may have confided in one of your mates about our first night."

"I've been a such a prat," Harry said as he collapsed on the bed, "You are saying he asked about the night in detail? Did he seem to know about it word for word, perhaps?" She nodded and took the opportunity to sit next to his head...running her fingers through his unruly hair, "What are you thinking?"

Harry was thinking about a certain unregistered animagus. While he thought and thought, Eliza coaxed him further into bed and under the covers. She continued to play with his hair as she left him to his thoughts. Time passed and she found herself lost in her own set of dirty little thoughts. Fantasies crept into her mind as she nodded off to sleep and they turned into dreams. Harry, on the other hand, lie awake secretly brooding and considering who might have tipped off Sean and how they'd found out. But that wasn't the only problem. He wondered how he'd protect Winky from the coming storm and what trouble he himself might be in.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The only chapter that came as easy to write was the scene at the bar with Hannah. I really enjoy writing about her. Same with Lavender. My soul tells me this chapter is special. If it speaks to you like it speaks to me then let me know. If it's missing something or I'm just way off then let me know that too. **


	13. TP 13 Strained Relations

**Chapter 13 – Strained Relations**

**Submitted: Monday 3/5/2012 Last Submitted: Thurs 3/1/2012 **

Early the next morning, Harry sat in his cubicle reviewing notes from an investigation when a loud 'thump' made him jump. Beside him, he found a thick vial filled with shimmery silvery liquid that had been left roughly on his desk. His mate Neville was already several strides away. Harry raced after him, "Neville, I don't need to go through her private thoughts."

"But you can question her loyalty and embarrass her in front of her mates? Go away Harry." Neville turned to walk away but changed his mind. Instead he placed a finger squarely on Harry's chest, "For a bloke who whined incessantly about how everyone jumped to conclusions about him, you didn't take any time at all to accuse Hannah of wagging her tongue." Neville's voice was full of disappointment, "What you did was inexcusable. She's inconsolable. It's not just that she was accused in such a manner. It was that _you_ did it. Do you know how much she cares about you? She considers you family."

There was nothing Harry could say to defend himself, "I know. I figured out last night after you left that it was not her."

Instead of calming Neville down this only served to anger him more. He towered menacingly over Harry, "I swear if you don't get out of my face right now...Don't talk to me. Don't look at me. Don't even think about me. And most important...don't you dare go anywhere near the Cauldron or my wife." With that, Neville stomped away.

Filled with remorse, Harry returned to his cubicle to find Ron and Auror Ewan Duncan waiting for him. Ron didn't look happy and Ewan was fidgeting. "Is the story true?" his trainer asked.

Harry grimaced, "Are you asking in an official capacity or as my mate?"

Ewan twitched, "It's best when it comes to law that you always assume that even your best mate is asking in an official capacity. There are all sorts of grey areas with the law but our job as Aurors is to get to the truth." Ron looked like he wanted to say something but Duncan shot him a warning glance, "I've been asked by the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to interview you regarding your house elves Winky and Kreacher. They are most interested in the events of the past four months. Observing the interview will be Head Auror Robards and a representative of the Breeding Board which is the organisation that coordinates with the Ministry the oversight of the breeding of house elves."

Ewan put his hand on Harry's shoulder, "As you know, it is our policy that if you refuse to agree to the interview then I must take you into custody until a formal inquest may be arranged. Otherwise, everyone is available now and we can get this over with."

Harry had hoped he'd have time before the Ministry was involved. He wasn't exactly sure of all of the laws when it came to house elves, "What would you do?"

"I'm not sure," answered Ewan. "I do know some very powerful witches and wizards want to see this done quickly. I'd be worried. This is one of the few corners of government that is still heavily controlled by Purebloods."

Harry thought to himself. He looked to Ron and his mate shrugged. Finally, he decided, "I'll agree on two conditions. First, give me five minutes to put my desk together. I was working on an investigation and I don't want to leave the files out. Second, I'd like Hermione present to advise me. She is as knowledgeable as anyone I know when it comes to House Elf Rights and I want to make sure I understand what is being asked of me."

Ewan considered a moment, "Actually the five minutes is fine one way or another. I need to ask Robards if the second request is possible given she is an employee of the Ministry. Take care of your desk while I go ask. Ron will make sure you don't do anything foolish."

"Don't count on that mate," replied Ron, which earned him a dark look from Ewan. The Auror's eyes were as pleading as his voice, "Don't make me regret this. Either of you. Please?" With that Ewan headed to Robards's office to confirm Harry's request.

Harry quickly began clearing off his desk. Most important, he placed Hannah's memory in his cabinet. Before locking the cabinet, he placed a charm on the vial that would shatter it if the cabinet was forcibly unlocked without the proper spell. He'd learned the charm from Neville when he first began training. This reminded him of what he'd done the night before and once again he was sad.

Ewan returned as Harry cleared the last of his files, "Robards is checking into conflict of interest and whether Hermione can represent you as an employee of the Ministry."

"You might as well agree now," Ron advised Ewan. "I can play it out for you. The Department will say there is a conflict of interest. Hermione will get upset. She will quit the Ministry and insist on advising Harry anyway. The Minister will find out Hermione resigned. Somehow it will be our fault and Robards and the Minister will have our arses."

Shaking his head, Ewan hazarding a laugh, "Well thought out as usual, Ron. Go get your girlfriend and have her meet us in Interrogation Room Number Two."

Harry was lucky he asked for her as it turned out. Because they were not yet willing to charge him, he had much more leverage and was able to sidestep any questions about the claim that he knew of Winky's desire to get pregnant. Hermione did advise him to tell the entire story about what had transpired between Winky and Kreacher but she first required that the two elves be allowed to remain in Harry's custody until either he or the elves were found guilty.

So, once Harry finished recounting the same story he had told Hannah weeks before, he was excused. Being it was still a civil case, he was allowed to return to work while the evidence was gathered. Ron found him at his cubicle and seemed much happier now that his mate seemed at least temporarily safe, "What are you working on?"

"Polyjuice. Rowan and I are looking at possible reasons that a group of wizards is producing it." Ron and Harry hadn't been partners for a few months. Ewan had taken Ron as his partner in order to groom him to take over a team. They were coordinating a massive investigation with a team of Aurors that was so secret that Harry wasn't even allowed to ask. Harry had made the move easy for Ron by asking for evening shifts. Really, he and his partner Rowan Bumwhiler took shifts whenever they were needed and they took whatever investigations couldn't be handled by the other Aurors.

Ron nodded, "Well, I've been asked to work on the investigation with you for a few days. Ewan thinks it will be good for you to have me around, I guess. You and me and Rowan will work together."

"You prepared to work the hours? Does Hermione know about this?" Harry cheeked.

"Hermione is not in charge of my schedule. Besides, I'd rather be working with you late at night than worrying how you are getting on. This will give us a chance to spend some time together again too. Just us blokes, you know? I realised how much I missed that during our time in Gree..Hella...oh, hell with it, Greece." Ron grinned, "So what do we have?"

Harry showed Ron the file, "We got a tip from a shop keeper in Knockturn Alley. Wizards he hadn't seen before were asking around for ingredients for Polyjuice Potion. He brought it me hoping for a reward. Mainly they were asking for the rarer stuff."

"Did we give him one?" asked Ron.

"A reward? _We_ didn't give him a knut. But he's a regular informant for me. I was curious so _I_ gave him a couple of Galleons when I was able to confirm with an herb guy in Diagon Alley that the same wizards were buying the more common ingredients from him."

Ron smirked, "I'm sure you gave it to him for entirely selfless reasons. You didn't even ask Duncan about the investigation before opening it, did you?"

"I gave him the gold because I was curious. The amounts they are purchasing are staggering. These are beyond Barty Crouch type numbers. I'd say it's enough to make enough potion for more than twelve hundred wizards for an hour...or for one person for a year's continuous use." Harry showed Ron the written list of ingredients as he spoke.

"Blimey Harry! Does that say what I think it does? Four whole horns of bicorn? Skins of two dozen Boomslang? What could they be using this for?" Ron looked gobsmacked, "Have you reported to Robards and Duncan about this?"

"Of course," Harry laughed. "We showed both of them. I'm surprised you hadn't heard about it. Both are sceptical but they've agreed to let us pursue it and see where it goes. They think my 'sources' are leading me down a blind alley and that they may be doing this as a prank. According to Robards, if this was true he'd have already heard about it. There'd be some kind of big conspiracy if that were the case."

"What do you think?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged, "I think it's a lot more interesting than spending all of my time wandering Diagon Alley late at night checking for 'suspicious activity.' Like most anyone on night shift, my partner is on the wrong side of Robards which means we aren't trusted with a lot of real investigative work."

"Working nights isn't helping your career track at all, Harry. You really should think of rejoining the rest of us trainees and partner up with an Auror that rates quality cases." Ron knew this was a lost cause. Harry couldn't sleep nights when he was alone. He hoped if anything, Harry's newfound relationship with Eliza might provide some normalcy. Other than the short few months at the Burrow before their last year at Hogwarts, Harry had always shared a flat with Ron, Seamus, Neville and Dean. Rarely did he ever sleep alone except at Privet Lane and Ron knew Harry'd only slept there when his owl Hedwig was in her cage watching over him.

It wasn't as if Harry was scared of the dark. It wasn't that Harry was scared of being alone. Harry just didn't like lying in bed alone at night. He had seen a lot in his young life and in the dark his mind would force him to watch the memories over and over in his head. Now that Voldemort was dead and he dreamt his own dreams it was even worse.

Ron suspected that was the real reason Harry'd made every effort to make the upstairs into a flat for Ron and Hermione. At least then he knew he had someone nearby. Even now, visitors were invited to stay at Grimmauld regularly. Everyone from celebrities that had come upon hard times to an Auror that had separated from her husband temporarily had stayed in the guest room adjacent to the library. Luna had a standing invitation to the room adjacent to the Sitting Room any time she was not 'In the Field' with Rufus. Harry's hospitality was becoming famous.

"Ron."

"What? Sorry Mate, I got lost in my thoughts. Let's see, where were we? So, you said you were looking into why they'd be brewing up such a large amount of Polyjuice?"

"Yes. Rowan and I plan to drop by their place as soon as we get approval from Robards. He is confirming whether we have proper cause for me to enter and have a look around. You know, in case we come across any useful evidence."

"Why don;t you just knock and ask to have a look around? Oy, are you still using your...?" Ron had a good laugh. "That thing was plenty useful when we were in school but I wish you'd have let me use it alone a night or two. I mean, it could be used for some rather..."

Harry shook his head, "How you and Seamus didn't end up best mates I will never know."

"Now there's a bloke who would have made good use of that cloak."

* * *

><p>The next month was busy. It had been expected that the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures would move against him quickly but he heard nothing more on the matter for weeks.<p>

He decided to accept an invitation for Slughorn's final Slug Club gathering for the school year. Earlier that afternoon Slytherin would meet Gryffindor for the final match of the Quidditch season and it was expected to be a bloodbath. Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff were tied with one loss but Slytherin needed at least 390 points to win the Cup. There was talk that the Slytherin Seeker Hunter Floyd would allow his mates to run up the score on winless Gryffindor to not only win the Cup but to do so in decisive fashion.

Eliza was Harry's date for the party. She drew several curious stares from the witches and some uncomfortable leers from some of the young wizards as they entered the dungeons. "Did I forget my clothes?" she whispered out of the side of her mouth. Harry shook his head. "Then can you explain why the blokes keep staring at everything but my eyes?"

As they entered Slughorn's chambers Harry heard a familiar voice, "Harry my boy! You made it!" Slughorn waddled up with his familiar walrus moustaches and a gleam in his eye as he looked up at Harry and his date, "Why, who might this be on Harry's arm? Is this the now famous Eliza MacGreggor that I hear the witches go on so much about before I begin my lessons?"

Eliza blushed as Slughorn took her hand and gently kissed it. She was flattered, "They chat about me?"

"Oh yes, my dear. I must ask on behalf of my poor smitten witches in Potions Fifth Year, 'Is there any chance any of them might have with Harry now that you've come onto the scene?' I ask only for them, of course," he winked, "I wouldn't dare ask for any other reason."

"Professor," Harry chuckled before remarking to his date, "Don't you dare answer him." He quipped, "The Professor will have a ghost writer lined up for a tell-all book before the evening is complete."

"Guilty as charged," admitted the Professor good-naturedly. Changing the subject but with the same charm, Slughorn asked, "Harry, have you ever made use of that Elixir that I brewed for you last June? If so, you might be able to convince me to part with another batch."

"No sir," Harry answered.

"Remember, it only lasts a few years before it grows weak." Slughorn seemed to think to himself. "I might have a few other concoctions you might find useful if you speak with me later privately. For now, though, let me introduce you to a few of our newer members. As you know, this is my last party. I retire at end of term."

The Potions Master took them around the room introducing him with great ceremony to anyone that had not yet met the 'Famous Harry Potter.' Most students had met Harry but had not heard Slughorn's stories so they were retold time and again. Each retelling was done with more embellishment. Eliza and Harry shared a look as Slughorn ended the same story a seventh time, "And to this day, I wouldn't be here if it were not for Harry. He convinced me to return to teaching. I could see the potential in the boy the night I met him!"

They were saved from an eighth retelling by Gwenog Jones, the Harpies Beater who had become a regular at Slughorn's parties from the time of Harry's Sixth Year, "Professor, I was wondering if I could tear your star guest away from you for a moment or two."

The Professor, recognising some unsaid words from the Beater, bowed, "Yes, but I refuse to relinquish his companion. I'd be a fool not to keep such a stunning young lady on my arm for as long as she'll let me," he winked.

Gwenog took Harry to a private corner, "You haven't replied to any of my owl posts."

Harry sighed, "It's nothing personal. Honestly, I just don't need any reminders. And if she knew we were speaking she'd be even angrier with me. She'd probably quit speaking to you as well. You know Ginny."

Gwenog nodded. Aside from Luna, she was Ginny's best mate. "But you know that if I'd known how this played out I would have..."

"...Done exactly as you did," Harry cut in. "Don't lie to me or to yourself, Gwen. You wanted to win more than anything. It's who you are. I don't fault you for that. Thinking back on it, I'd probably have done things exactly the same as well. She wanted so much to be a Harpy and I wanted to see her happy." Harry changed the subject, "Does she ever mention me?"

Gwenog fidgeted nervously and the back of her hand suddenly became very interesting.

"Not at all?" Harry couldn't help but be disappointed.

Gwenog shook her head sadly. She hoped to provide at least some hope, "She doesn't seem to care much for any bloke, really. She's just a beard for that bloke at Puddlemore. All she talks is Quidditch and Seeking – as if she's going to wring every bit of talent out of herself while she has the opportunity. She and Isa have this pact. They convinced me to play for six more years and they want to try to make a run at six straight Cups. I honestly don't know if I can do it."

"Why six?" Harry asked.

Again Gwenog shrugged her shoulders, "It doesn't matter, I don't think I have more than three left in me anyhow. I've been at this for nearly thirteen years now, Harry. Don't get me wrong, the Harpies have never placed better than third while I've played and this year we have a chance at the first Harpy Quidditch Cup in any living witch's lifetime. But look at my hands, Harry."

Gwenog's hands showed the signs of years of breaks and magical healing. Even healers could not fix a break completely every time and these such breaks were obvious. Her arms, though beautiful, also showed the scars that years of play ultimately left.

"I want children eventually. What kind of mum would I be if I waited until forty to have my first child? Most witches have their first soon after school. I wouldn't have anything in common with them. Blimey, I'll be old enough to be a grandmother before I have my first baby."

Eliza and Slughorn could be seen nearby eyeing them. Gwenog followed Harry's eyes and understood, "It appears I've monopolised your time enough. Please don't ignore my owls. I may be Ginny's mate but you are my mate too. As it is, I can count my mates on one hand that doesn't want something of me or fear me."

As they headed over to a group Slughorn was telling a story to, Harry thought to ask, "You and George get on well. You still go out with him and Angelina?"

"Aye, but it's uncomfortable without a date of my own. George and I make off to chat and it leaves Angelina to fend for herself. She and I get on all right but she does better with the Chasers. I worry she's going to grow jealous."

"Jealous of what?" asked Eliza as they reached the group. Harry shook his head discreetly and Eliza got the hint, "Darling, I saw Auror Mason's daughter Madeline as we made rounds and she couldn't stop chatting about you. She said her mum sends her owls with updates about you?"

Harry nodded, "Did you see where she went off to? I promised her mum I'd check in on her."

Slughorn looked concerned, "I've kept an eye on her as you asked. Is her father any better?"

The grim look brought a frown to the Professor's face. Harry explained to Eliza that the bloke had a disease that had robbed him of his ability to walk, "Hermione says they call it MS. Multiple Scarosis, I think. He's getting worse and worse. He was a professor at a Muggle University but he hasn't found a Muggle or Wizard healer that can help him."

Eliza guided him to the group that she had found Madeline with. Madeline attacked him with a hug, "Oh, I was so hoping to see you tonight! How's Mum? She says she's all right but I can tell she isn't taking it well."

"She's well, Maddie," Harry chose his words carefully, "I work a lot of evenings so I don't see much of her. When we do see each other she can't help be proud of you. I heard you had top marks in all of your subjects?"

"All but DADA." She noticed Harry's amusement, "Yes, I know. Mum is an Auror and I can barely rate an Acceptable."

Eliza squeezed Harry's hand, "Don't let Harry wind you up. Like he said, you're mum is so proud of you. I see her more than he does. She can't help but bring you up." This brought a blush to Madeline's already rosy cheeks.

"Did I hear you were going to try out again for the team?" Harry asked.

"Aye, next year I want to try for Chaser. Like Gin..." Madeline stopped mid-name as she noticed Eliza wince. "There is talk that I'll have better chance at Chaser than Seeker. I'd try out of Beater if I wasn't rubbish swinging a bat but I just don't have the strength for it. Did you see the match today?" Harry shook his head.

Madeline couldn't contain her excitement, "We didn't win but we kept it close – Ravenclaw ended up with the Cup by a margin of 230 points. It took nearly six hours but our Chasers scored enough goals that Hunter finally had to go for the snitch out of fear of losing the match. He couldn't stand the idea of being the only club to lose to Gryffindor. Our goal was defended so well that they began comparing our Keeper to Ron."

Harry was impressed, "I'll let Ron know. He'll be flattered."

A familiar face caught Harry's attention in the crowd. It too noticed him and the owner made his way to Harry with little regard for his companion. Astoria Greengrass seemed almost to be dragged by a fair-skinned wizard with sharp but handsome features, light blonde hair and cold grey eyes. The wizard looked more and more like his father with every passing year.

"I see your taste in company has improved, Potter," the well-dressed wizard spat out Harry's last name as if it were a dirty word. "Mum told me you might be here this evening. You may not know this but she's on the board that is handling the complaint regarding your house elves. She told me she's itching to be selected as the one to hear your case. Told me she had some unfinished business to attend to with you," Draco sneered.

Any time Draco and Harry spoke it got attention. The room seemed to grow more quiet. There were several whispers that could be heard asking what Draco was even doing here. Draco must have heard, "I'm not sure if you might have heard but Astoria and I have recently been engaged to be married. We get only a few opportunities to see each other so I come for the Professor's parties." Draco seemed to speak louder so as many could hear as possible, "Good luck, Potter," he announced in his familiar drawl, "If my mum gets selected to hear your case...you'll need it. She told me that if she's chosen she's going to make sure you and your elves get what you deserve." At that he turned on his heals and dragged Astoria with him.

Eliza held Harry firm by the arm or he might have followed Malfoy. There were more than a few that mentioned under their breaths that Malfoy was lucky he hadn't gotten what _should_ have come to him – even some Slytherins. Slughorn apologised to Harry, "I'm sorry my boy, if I'd known..." He whispered conspiratorially, "I don't quite understand it. After all I heard you'd done for the boy. I heard it was you..." He noticed others trying to listen in and returned his voice to normal, "Either way, that does it. As long as I'm Potion's Master he won't be allowed back in these dungeons."

A Fifth Year Gryffindor couldn't help but cheek, "Perfect, he's banned through the month."

Harry didn't care about any ban. He was more worried about his elves. He hadn't even considered Narcissa – he would have thought that she'd have been an ally. He decided he'd need to visit her soon.


	14. TP 14 Meetings

**Chapter 14 – Meetings**

**Submitted Friday 9 March 2012 **

Every attempt was made to get in contact with Narcissa Malfoy but each of Harry's messages were turned away. After some checking around, Harry found that Narcissa, as a member of the Breeder's Board for House Elves, would visit the Ministry for a meeting. It was held at the offices for the Department for the Regulation and Control for Magical Creatures on the second Wednesday of every month. It was Hermione who was able to dish out the details, "You may call it the Department for Magical Creatures if you prefer. We've taken to the name in an effort to save our voices," she explained matter-of-factly.

The Polyjuice investigation had met resistance. The Department for Magical Law Enforcement refused to issue warrants allowing Harry to enter the house or interview the owner involved. Robards met personally with Harry, Ron, Ewan and Rowan and explained, "I've been told that the Wizengamut and the Director for the MLE wants us to leave this alone. The Director insists he knows the owner and that what is going on there is likely harmless."

Harry groaned, "Harmless? Polyjuice Potion? This bloke is making loads of Polyjuice Potion and is either using it or distributing it. The Director just dismisses this without looking into it at all?"

Ewan looked sceptical as well, "Sir, I know this is a sensitive subject but the Director_** is**_ a Pureblood." Despite the steely expression that met his observation, Ewan pushed on, "If there was a conspiracy wouldn't he be the perfect person to deflect any suspicions."

Robards tone could have cut glass, "We have a chain of command for a reason. But, if any of you would like to question Director Donnelly's intentions then feel free to go directly to him. I'm sure he would be all to happy to provide his thoughts on the matter. Considering he was chosen by the Minister himself I will take him at his word." The Head Auror looked directly at Harry, "You are not given permission to enter the residence and you may not speak to the owner regarding this matter. That is a direct order from the Director."

Robards softened his tone a little, "I was told that this bloke has contacts with members of the Wizengamut and this might prove embarrassing for some of them. I was assured that whatever is going on is harmless but it still makes me uncomfortable as well. If you do decide to pursue this and I find any written reports I will have you charged with harassment. I'd never stop any Auror from pursuing a lead he felt strongly about – we must follow our guts. You are hereby warned not to enter the house or to speak to this bloke or any Wizengamut regarding the matter. Otherwise, you pursue any investigation where you may suspect a crime. That is all."

As the Aurors left Robards's office they shared a look. Harry acted as if he were going to ask Ewan a question but the Trainer shook his head. I don't want to know. I believe Robards was very clear what he would and wouldn't allow. Now go do your jobs. Oh, and mates, it's official. I'll be letting all of you know at the next meeting, the trainees shall be assigned full status as of July First. You will all be rated as Aurors Fourth Class." Rowan slapped the two Trainees on the back as congratulations. They were sworn to secrecy but for the rest of the day nothing could ruin Ron's mood.

Once Ewan left earshot, the other three Aurors dissected the Head Auror's directions carefully. They decided a full on stakeout was useless. Instead they began to interview contacts that had dealings with the owner trying to find out if he had any dealings with any groups or individuals that were known to cause trouble in the Wizard or Muggle worlds. They decided a full independent work up on the owner was necessary as well.

Harry decided an occasional visit to the residence would suffice and he'd bring either Ron or Rowan with him for an hour at a time. They'd watch as wizards and witches apparated to and from a place near the property line. Harry noted to himself that there was probably a charm that kept anyone from apparating directly in or out of the home - less surprise visitors that way.

While most of the witches and wizards did not seem dangerous, Harry could tell that they were nervous. Nervous usually equalled guilt. The visitors would stay about an hour – two at most. The visitors ranged from well connected pure-bloods to members of the Wizengamut. A vast majority of the visitors were well off financially.

Ron took their time together as a chance at guy talk. Harry cringed when the subject of Eliza came up, "Mate, if you'd asked me last year what I'd say if you'd gone through with snogging that bird. I said it then and I'll say it again. She_** is **_Cracking!"

"Sshhh..." Harry looked sternly at his mate, "You're going to bring attention to us."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Mate, if I wanted to sit a stakeout with Hermione then I would have invited her. Now tell me, she's like a lynx, isn't she?" The obvious attempt at buffoonery on Ron's part forced Harry to lighten up. Ron kept at it, "Come on, this is your best mate asking and there aren't any birds here to take the piss out of you for your answer. Just between us. Is she as wild as she lets on?"

He knew Ron wouldn't let it go. Really, it wasn't so bad. He knew Ron was just trying to get him to talk. Amusement crept across his face, "Mate, a lynx might be a fair description. She's certainly playing cat and mouse with me. I don't know what we are but I can't help but look at her. And she..." Harry was looking for words, "she knows how to make me insane. Just with a look sometimes. She's not modest – not one bit. You lot will be downstairs and I'll be waking up for work and she'll begin dancing just to get me wound up..." Harry shivered when he thought about it. "...She's got it."

Ron smiled knowingly, "She's seven years older than you. You'd think she'd know a thing or two. I just can't see why _**she's**_ all worked up about you."

"I couldn't tell you. Maybe the whole 'Chosen One' bit. She goes back and forth between seducing me and mothering me..."

Ron's face screwed up, "Mothering you?"

"Honestly, it's when she's the most...lovely. When I come in angry or upset she'll undress me and put me in my pyjamas. She'll calm me down. Then she'll..."

"Blimey Harry!" Ron looked ready to wretch, "Do you hear yourself?" Harry shook his head no. Ron considered a polite way to explain. He decided there was none, "Mate, she's your mum."

Now Harry was the one with the screwed up look, "I don't understand. I just said she calmed me down. How does that make her my mum?"

"Forget it mate. Not important right now. For now it's important that the most cracking bird in the Auror Department is into you. And by your account she's so hopelessly into you she'll do whatever sordid thing you ask of her." Ron now had the sly grin, "And I can live vicariously through you. Which means, mate, that it is your responsibility to do some awfully sordid things and share every detail. Remember, the most important thing is to share."

Harry couldn't help but let a 'guffaw' escape at Ron's sudden exuberance. Unfortunately, this caught the attention of a couple who was leaving the residence and gave Harry and Ron reason to make a quick exit before they were recognised.

In his off hours, Harry had began another unrelated and unauthorised stakeout of sorts. He began to search for where Rita Skeeter was getting off to recently. He was determined that she was at the bottom of the whole mess with Hannah. He couldn't fathom why she'd give the story to someone else but his gut told him that she was the only one that could have listened in at the Cauldron and not been caught. Maybe that was the key? If she published the story then it would have been obvious how she had gotten it?

Her flat was a closely guarded secret so he began to ask around to see if she was following any particular stories. At first he had no luck but then he remembered a young lady that he had met the last time he visited the Daily Prophet. Young Miss Flanagan was still a receptionist for Editor Quilvash. As such, she was in regular contact with all of the writers. After a week of fruitless searching for Rita on his own he decided to visit the Daily Prophet and call on Miss Flanagan. The door jingled as Harry entered. Immediately Harry caught the eye of the receptionist and she blushed when he smiled.

Miss Flanagan had such a lovely inviting smile that Harry wondered how she ever got caught up in such a business. To him, The Prophet was the lowest of the low. Miss Flanagan was quite the opposite – a portrait of delicate classical beauty that dressed smartly and wore a caring expression as if she was always listening to what you were saying. Her hair was the colour of mocha chocolate. If you were to look into her eyes you'd first swear they were pale blue but small flecks of green would make them change in the right light. Harry shook his head annoyed at himself when he caught himself once again admiring another witch.

He decided he first should make sure they were alone. Once she explained that everyone else was away for lunch he explained the reason for his visit, "I don't want to get you in trouble but I was wondering if you could share with me what Miss Skeeter is working on presently. She isn't working on any stories about me, is she?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I can't share that information." She seemed to sympathise with his plight and she looked genuinely sorry that she couldn't be more helpful. When she saw Harry's brilliant green eyes droop like those of a sad puppy, she couldn't take it. He could see the wheels in her head turn furiously as she considered what she could and couldn't say. He was surprised by the boldness of her next suggestion, "Of course, if you were to invite me to lunch some time then I'd be a simple young witch and not a receptionist for 'a heartless old rag that has lost its way.'" He seemed to remember using those very words a few years back in an interview with the Quibbler when describing the Prophet.

Harry considered the witch's offer. What she was offering was borderline unethical but no less so than him asking her to share confidences between herself and her employer in the first place. He decided he was fine with it, "I'd be happy to take you to lunch...but you do know I have a girlfriend?"

"Oh, every witch in England knows that." She pushed the very thought away with an open hand, "Pictures of the two of you have covered the front page for nearly a month. I know a fine Muggle restaurant if you'd like to meet tomorrow...say noon?"

And arrangements were made. It seemed too easy, really, but Harry didn't think much of it.

Before Harry began his shift that evening he had dinner with Eliza. This had become a regular thing. By now, she had been provided with access to the Floo and Harry's room at Grimmauld Place. She was keyed to the handle and it was common for her to sleep in his room. They rarely slept in the room at the same time – she'd go to sleep sometime after he left following "dinner" and she'd wake up to find that he'd slipped into bed with her just as she woke up. She'd often take a late lunch and slip into bed next to him that final half hour for a quick nap which allowed her to wake up next to him. He noticed that since this arrangement had begun he was sleeping much easier.

They rarely ate alone. The Dining Room at Grimmauld Place was nearly always full for dinner. Seamus and Dean had standing offers as did the Weasleys, many members of the DA and several of the single Aurors. Harry's home had the feel of a small social club and witches and wizards would come and go as late as midnight. He enjoyed the company but found that he actually spoke with very few of the visitors. This never surprised anyone – it was more surprising on the odd night when he included himself in the fun.

Hermione was listening to the Auror who was staying in the guest room on the second landing. She was the one who'd had issues with her husband and they were thankfully working through them. As she happily announced to Hermione that she expected to move back in with her husband over the weekend, Harry quietly got Eliza's attention, "I thought I should tell you that I'm having lunch with a young witch tomorrow."

Eliza was taken aback, "Growing tired of me already?" Her tone gave away a real concern hiding behind her cheeky smile.

"No. No, of course not," Harry insisted. "I need to ask her some questions for that matter with...well, you know...we've been talking about it."

Eliza nodded understanding and asked quietly, "Anything I need to be worried about? You know, with this witch? Is she pretty?"

"No and yes." Harry answered. Everyone else's attention still seemed to be on the Auror and her news.

"Well, then good luck." She had a difficult time hiding her relief, "And thanks. You know, for telling me."

Harry nodded.

* * *

><p>His shift was painfully slow that evening. The job of an Auror had grown incredibly dull. He was nearing the day when he'd be a full Auror but it just wasn't the same as the nights when he'd stalked the halls of Hogwarts looking for danger. There were no dragons or three headed dogs hiding in the shops of Diagon Alley at 2am. The occasional wizard pissed drunk was not his problem. MLE had their own wizards for those chores. The Aurors were more a combination of elite detectives and bodyguards for Ministry officials than they were patrollers. But Harry had elected to pair up with Rowan and Rowan was one mark away from being sacked.<p>

Rowan lazily strolled along the Alley as they kept an eye out for suspicious shadows, "I'm requesting reassignment," he announced dully.

"Why?" Harry asked as he peeked a careful eye into George's shop. Empty.

Harry's partner explained, "You're wasting your time with me. Besides, I'm not really made for this. They're itching to be rid of me and they'll find an excuse soon enough. Better I go to MLE before I'm shown the door." Rowan didn't really seem too interested in looking around.

"Magical Law Enforcement won't be any better. Why don't you just quit altogether?"

Rowan shook his head, "Oy, Harry. Are you thick? I was in MLE for twenty-seven years. They only promoted me to Auror because they were short after they sacked half the Ministry for being Death Eaters. Another two years and I rate a full pension at Auror pay. Not every bloke has gobs of gold sitting around begging to be spent. Before my promotion I had to watch every Sickle. I'm going to ask to be reassigned with my pension intact – considering the rumblings I think they'll agree.

Harry nodded. He'd considered returning to days anyway. Now that Eliza was staying over it made sense to at least be able to keep the same schedule.

He spent much of the rest of the shift thinking about Eliza and how fast they'd moved. He felt lucky that she never used the "L" word. How would he respond to that? He had grown rather fond of her. Even now he could smell the hint of cherry blossoms that he knew was the scent of her shampoo. He knew this because he had run out of his own shampoo and Kreacher had not bothered to replenish it. He wondered if Kreacher thought the shampoo Eliza now kept in his bath was for him as well.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Rowan finally asked as they neared the end of their shift.

"Cherry blossoms," Harry answered without thinking.

"Is that what I've been smelling all night?" the older Auror replied. "I was wondering if perhaps you were considering..." Harry's glare was enough to stop him mid-sentence.

It had come to light that Harry did not take disparaging comments about other's preferences lightly when he challenged a fellow Auror to a duel one afternoon. Thinking he'd take the Auror off guard during the duel he cast, "Serpent-semptura!" The giant snake that leapt out of his wand chased the Auror right out of the duelling chamber. The onlookers couldn't help but howl with laughter. One finally explained, "The bloke is deathly afraid of snakes. He probably knew the counter curse but was too afraid to remember to use it."

The hours crept by. Harry didn't bother to return home to sleep. He piddled round London until noon the next day. Finally, when the sun was high overhead, Harry found himself sitting in a Muggle restaurant by the name of J. Sheekey with the young Miss Flanagan. They finished lunch. She'd decided to indulge in caviar as a start and then somehow still finished her entire meal of foie gras with scallops and buttered carrots. She convinced Harry to try a bite of the caviar but it wasn't to his taste. He was quite happy with his meal of haddock and chips. He noticed that the chips weren't quite right – it was like they used the wrong kind of potatoes or something. Otherwise the haddock was brilliant.

Soon the meal was cleared away and tea was presented with a dessert menu. When making reservations, he'd elected for one of the smaller quieter rooms rather than the horseshoe table in the signature dining area. He'd agreed to pay extra to have the remaining tables cleared out and have the small room just for them. As she looked over the desserts she remarked, "Harry, you may call me Eva. 'Miss Flanagan' makes me feel old. I'm likely younger than you, I suspect."

"Sorry Eva." Harry wondered how to get started. He was desperately short on sleep, "Forgive my being forward but you mentioned we might speak about certain things."

They were interrupted by the waiter. She ordered the crème brulee. He couldn't imagine where she'd put it. He decided on the treacle tart. When the waiter stepped out she answered, "I'll answer a few questions but it'll come at a cost." Harry was at a loss for words. He'd never considered she would bring him here for bribery. He'd paid sources for information before but that was as an Auror. Being that this was personal it seemed a tad unseemly.

"I don't know," he stammered. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

"Oh, no," her eyes got wide when she understood his reluctance. "Not gold...I'll answer a question if _**you**_ answer a question." Her smile returned and it had mischief written all over it. "But we must promise to answer whatever question is asked and we must promise to answer truthfully."

Harry considered. Before he could answer the desserts arrived. Harry jumped when the waiter pulled out a torch and a small flame flared up from Eva's dish. Her giggle and light clap let him know that this was likely how the dessert was normally served. Before answering, he took a bite of his treacle tart and...blech. The taste was all wrong. The haddock had been excellent, but he decided he should have Molly send the chef her recipe for tart. So much for nice restaurants.

"All right, I'll do it," Harry finally agreed, "and I swear to tell the truth. But," She looked very interested as he explained, "I will not answer any questions that would betray a confidence at my job or of a friend. In addition, neither of us may share our answers with anyone else. At all."

"Agreed," she exclaimed excitedly. "First question," she said after a bite, "Are you in love with this witch you've been seeing?"

"No," he answered much more easily than he would have expected. He ventured another bite of the tart and wished he hadn't. As he chewed he noticed she had expected more of an answer. He swallowed, "At least not right now. She is lovely and she puts up with me and I really enjoy being with her. I suppose I could fall in love but...no." He decided to ask his own, "Do you know if Rita has been listening in on my conversations lately?"

"No," Eva replied, "I mean, no she has not. Seeing that Harry was still hopeful for more she continued, "She was beside herself that this Sean bloke beat her to the stories about you and that witch...she was furious about the elves. She was searching all over for your mystery girl from the time that picture was published." Feeling she had given a lot of information with that question she followed up with, "Have you ever..."

"...Never," came the emphatic reply, "I'm still a..." Her disappointed look forced him to stop and ask, "What?"

"You didn't let me finish," she grumbled. "That wasn't the question...but duly noted." She seemed to concentrate on a single point between his eyes as if this was now hard for her to get out. She asked it as one word, "Haveyoueverthoughtofmelikeher?" Before he could answer she qualified the question, "Snogging, maybe dating," she blushed, "not the other."

Forward. Very forward. How did he answer this? "Why do you ask?"

"Technically that's another question but...well...I got the impression you agreed to this lunch more to interrogate me than a proper date. It's why I loaded up on all this fancy food and now I have a dreadful stomach ache. I'd always heard this place was nice so when you offered I took advantage. If I was going to be used..." she didn't have to finish the sentence. Harry's shamed look said enough.

This was enough to get Eva to spill everything, "Rita doesn't have anything on you yet that I know of. Quilvash has placed a large bounty on any story that paints you in a bad light. He considers Ginny off limits but he wants anything he can get 'to take you down a notch.' There's a bloke named Vincent that has a story that's stagnated about some married witch that he says you have shacked up with you at Grimmauld Place. He's trying to portray you as a playboy with a harem that is breaking up homes but he went to the wizard she's married to and asked a lot of questions. When her husband realised what Vincent planned on writing he threatened to personally chase the bloke down and curse him into oblivion. One writer has a source in the Ministry prepared to leak the details of your elves but he wants gold. Quilvash isn't prepared to pay what he's looking for." She looked at him expectantly, "Is that what you wanted to know?"

He could only nod. She'd let the whole thing out in one rush as if she just wanted it all off of her chest. She stood, "I should probably get on. It's best you didn't walk with me back. If people were to see..." Harry understood.

When she stood up Harry had followed suit out of courtesy. He placed two fifty pound notes on the table and made to say good bye. The look of disappointment on her face was too much for him and without provocation he finished his answer to her question, "I did ask you to lunch solely to get information from you. But you _are_ stunning. The reason I felt so ashamed is that I do find you attractive and could see myself dating...or snogging you. I feel guilty because I promised Eliza there was nothing to this and I am trying desperately not to make myself a liar. I'm not sure what Eliza and I are, really. But I do like her and I am dating her and I wouldn't be much of a bloke if I were to make a move on you too."

Somehow this cheered her up. Her eyes brightened - if he'd been able to look behind her he'd of understood the phrase 'like a bushy tailed rabbit' much better. She stretched up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. He bent down with the same plan and the unlikely result was he kissed her on the lips...just a peck...he laughed awkwardly not knowing what to say. She squealed with delight and hugged him tightly. You'd have thunk she was celebrating her birthday and Christmas all at once. He heard her giggle "bye" as she raced out the door.

He was split between feeling happy that he'd made her happy and feeling guilty that he found her attractive. With one last look at that awful treacle tart he decided it was time to head home.

* * *

><p>A few days later, Harry found Narcissa Malfoy at the Ministry. It was the second Wednesday of the month and she was between meetings at the Department for Magical Creatures. Surrounded by a group of fellow members of the Breeders' Board and a few high placed officials in the Department, it was awkward when he tried to approach her with a casual, "Might I have a minute with you in private?"<p>

Her response sent him reeling, "What for, Potter?" She turned on him in front of everyone, her voice loud enough that the entire Department could hear, "Do you really expect to curry favour with me? What, you wish to speak privately so you can remind me that you put in a few good words on my behalf at my hearing?" Narcissa glared at him through narrow cold blue eyes. She still had much of her beauty but it was lost on Harry as she snarled, "You honestly have the gall to come to me and ask for mercy after you first ruined and then buried my husband? You left my son without a father!"

Harry was at a loss for an appropriate response. He hadn't expected this. He'd thought Draco's comments were simple anger and bravado but she made her intentions clear, "I will assure you of this, if I am chosen to hear your case then I will be fair and I will follow the letter of the law. That's more than you deserve you half breed scoundrel." With that she waved him off.

What he witnessed next was disconcerting. To a one, everyone within earshot had a look of pride. They would have applauded if they dared. What he hadn't noticed was the reporter who had witnessed the entire exchange.


	15. TP 15 Errand Boy

**Chapter 15 – Errand Boy**

**Submitted: Wednesday 3/14/12 Last Submission was Friday 3/9/12**

_The Daily Prophet Thursday, July 2000_

_Was he there to strong arm her? Did he think he might bribe her? Whatever Harry had come to discuss, Narcissa Malfoy would have none of it. No sad weak widow, Narcissa is as fiery a witch as any wizard will find in England. This very witch saved Harry at great risk to herself just two years ago in the Forest near Hogwarts because she felt it was the right thing to do. Could it be that the Chosen One has stepped foul of the law and that she feels betrayed? Whatever the case may be, Mrs. Malfoy pledged to show Harry no mercy and to follow the letter of the law should she oversee his petition._

_Mr. Potter has had his share of scrapes with the law since his anointment as saviour in August of 1991. One must wonder if the young wizard grows weary of the peace he himself helped create. Most recently, Mr. Potter..._

Ron glanced up from the paper. Hermione was waiting expectantly, "So?"

"So?" Ron replied mockingly. "What am I supposed to do? It looks to be more about Narcissa than Harry. They don't exactly paint him in a positive light but everything they state is factually true. What do you want me to do? Go down to the Prophet and find this Victor and sock him in the nose like Harry has become so much in the habit at doing? There's exactly two blokes in all of England loved enough to get away with _that_ and one of them is the Minister."

Hermione sulked, "It's not fair." Harry was still asleep upstairs after a long night on patrol but Hermione didn't like that he'd have to eventually wake up to this. She'd hoped Ron would have been more sympathetic to Harry's plight.

"Consider it karma," Ron advised. "Neville still hasn't forgiven Harry over _that_ whole bit of rubbish. Neville left the day that he finished training and he hasn't been back up since."

"It's more complicated than that and you know it," Hermione argued, "You need to go and convince Neville to forgive him. Harry tried and Neville wouldn't listen."

"Blimey, Hermione!" Ron complained, "He's no less likely to flatten me than he is Harry. The Neville you see is nice and quiet...calm. Neville the angry Auror is a madman. I'd rather face a werewolf with a toothache."

"Neville wouldn't hurt you any more than he'd hurt Harry. Neville only threatened Harry because he hurt Hannah. Harry isn't actually afraid that Neville would do any of that nonsense – he feels guilty because he knows Neville was right to be angry. You know Harry. He's sooo sensitive."

"If I don't go speak with Neville?" Ron asked.

Luna and Rufus were reading on a couch in the Sitting Room when Ron passed through grumbling. They were between adventures into the wilderness and were staying at Harry's for the week. Once Ron called out, "The Leaky Cauldron!" and disappeared in a puff of green smoke, Rufus looked curiously at his girlfriend.

"He's off to apologise for Harry for that mess with Hannah, I imagine." Luna answered dreamily.

Rufus was a portrait of confusion, "But why is Ron the one apologising? Wasn't Harry the one that screwed up?"

Luna kissed her boyfriend on the cheek, "Of course Harry was the one at fault, silly. But Harry doesn't have hopes of snogging Hermione this evening." Thinking snogging didn't sound like a half-bad idea, Rufus placed his arm around Luna. Soon they had forgotten all about Ron or Hermione.

When Ron arrived at the Cauldron he found Neville wiping down the bar. Hannah was in and out of the kitchen carrying linens and silver in preparation for the lunch crowd that was certain to file in in a few hours. Neville laid a wary eye on Ron, "What?"

"I see Hannah's been working on your skills with the customers."

Ron imagined Neville looked much like an angry bear. He took a stool at the bar anyway.

"Neville you can glare at me, threaten me, even beat me senseless but you are no match for Hermione. She can do one thing that you could never do."

"What's that?" Neville asked while cleaning a glass.

Ron's face was serious, "Cut me off."

Ron's observation drew a giggle from Hannah who apparently had been listening. Glancing her way, he found her hiding a smile behind a stack of linens. She wasn't the only one. He caught Neville fighting off a smile as well and he continued on, "So, regardless of how worried I am that you might pummel me to my grave I am going to speak on behalf of my mate and ask you to forgive him."

"Nay on both counts." Neville looked up from the glass he was cleaning...now well polished and sparkling, "I'm not going to pummel you and I'm not going to forgive him."

"You should at least hear him out."

"I have. He said he was wrong and he apologised."

Ron looked at Neville quizzically, "What else would you have him do?"

"What would you do..?" Neville asked, "If Harry accused Hermione of telling his worst secrets to a reporter...in front of all of her mates? Mind you, Hermione has lost all her family and she thinks more of nobody in this world except perhaps you. Do you know she'll barely speak to anyone now, even her patrons?"

Ron considered, "You're dead on, mate. I'd be pissed off. I'd want to rip his head off. But then I'd remember something that you fortunately never witnessed. You see, as bad as what Harry did to Hannah, I did worse." Ron cringed to have to admit this, "When we were out looking for Horcruxes I abandoned Harry and Hermione. It wasn't all my fault but I just left them there because at the time I was jealous and afraid and angry. I returned weeks later and Hermione was ready to turn me away but Harry took me back no questions asked. His response was essentially, 'We'll always be mates.' I had abandoned him _and_ Hermione, Neville."

Neville stood there mulling over Ron's story. Ron didn't bother to wait, "And the worst part, Neville? I've never told anyone this, especially Hermione. When we destroyed Voldemort's locket, Harry saw my innermost thoughts as they played out before both of us. He saw all of my jealousy and all of my secret accusations. I felt like the world's worst mate...and he didn't even think twice about it. In fact, _he_ apologised to _me_ because he knew how much the thoughts had tormented me."

Hannah had heard much of what he said. She had joined the two of them and she was hugging Neville. Ron finished with a look of remorse, "I can't honestly tell you what I'd do or feel if Harry said the same things to Hermione that he said to Hannah. I don't know if I'm a good enough bloke that I'd be able to forgive him. I do know this though. He'd eventually forgive either one of us if we'd said something similar to Ginny given that we were sorry. That is the kind of mate that he is. He loves both of you _and_ me _and_ Hermione and it tears him up inside that he hurt both of you like he did. I hope you can forgive him given enough time."

Ron couldn't stand the silence. After a few moments and he stood up to leave. Neville looked at him funny and asked, "Mate, you fancy a pint? It's early, but I could certainly use one." Ron nodded a hearty "yes" and Neville drew up three pints. They spent the rest of the morning chatting about Neville's plans now that he'd left the Ministry.

* * *

><p>From the Cauldron, Ron dropped in on his eldest brother's cottage to check in on his sister-in-law, Fleur. Bill was back in Egypt for the holiday working on a particularly difficult set of curses on a recent find. Ron did a quick walk around the cottage to make sure nothing needed attending to. Winky kept the interior sparkling clean but the exterior would occasionally need a little looking after.<p>

He approached the cliffs that the cottage used as a backdrop. He could hear the waves crash grandly against the rocks below and he imagined this was a fine place to live. With his wand he used a wide cutting curse that he'd learned from his dad to lop off the tops of some high growing brush near the property. He he rounded the back of the property he noticed the wind had damaged a few boards on the shed. With a whisk of his wand he adjusted the displaced boards and with an open hand he summoned a few nails from inside. Finally he sent the nails at the board with such speed that they shot into the boards and secured them to the studs.

Ron found the work at shell cottage to be therapeutic. He'd never admit it to his mum but he missed some of the chores around the Burrow. He decided that tending to the chores voluntarily made all the difference in the world. It didn't hurt that when he finished looking after Shell Cottage his reward was a kiss on the cheek by Fleur. Today when he entered the cottage to check on the witches he found the unexpected.

What Ron found in the cottage set him on his ear.

"Ello Ron," announced a somewhat familiar voice when he stepped into kitchen. There, sitting at a small breakfast table feeding Victoire, was a stunning young blonde that had Ron stuttering. Shamelessly, the young Veela exercised her full powers on her brother-in-law. She got great satisfaction out of the stupefied look and the blathering nonsense the poor bloke sputtered.

"Gabbe, stop toying with zee poor boy. Eet eez not 'is fault 'ee cannot ignore your charms." Fleur looked disapprovingly at her sister, "Eef 'Erminee knew what you 'ave done you might bee 'unting flies from a lillee pad."

"I was onlee 'aving a little fun." Unlike Fleur, Gabrielle's only sign she was French was how she tended to drop "h" from the beginning of a word and her occasional stress on an 'ee' at the end. She rebuked Fleur, "Sis, you sound more French now than the day you left Beauxbatons...and not in a good way."

Ron had finally gained enough composure to complete a sentence, "Fluer, you didn't say anything about Gabrielle being here." Fleur shrugged. Ron shuddered.

Gabrielle had grown up in every way. Only sixteen, she was still considered of age by Veela standards. Hearing that Harry was single and seeing reprinted articles of the original Rita Skeeter piece, including the letter, she decided that this holiday she would visit her sister and claim her prize. She had no intentions of walking away from England without Harry's heart tucked in her purse. When she explained her intentions to Ron with the bravado only a teenager could muster, he couldn't help but observe, "The ruddy fool is up to his shoulders in birds and he walks around like a sodden lonely puppy. I'd be plucking every bird that came my way if I were him. Pluck the whole lot of them and send them all home with a smile.

"Which eez why you 'ave one solitaree lonelee meesguided girlfriend," Fleur cheeked in an attempt to wind him up.

Ron couldn't help but steal another glance at Gabrielle. Her hair was a rich golden blonde and her eyes a vibrant blue...much like her sister's. There the comparisons ended. Fleur had a slender athletic frame that had provided her with the agility and quickness required of a Tri-Wizard Champion. Her features were fine, classical and comparable to a young Grace Kelly.

While Fleur was beautiful, Gabrielle had a sultry, almost seductive, countenance. Ron wondered if it was because she had decided on a mate and was out on the prowl that maybe some of her glamour bubbled to the surface and made her even more desirable. All he knew was that she exuded femininity. Her figure was more of an hourglass than that of her sister and her lips held a natural pout that most blokes couldn't help but find irresistible.

Ron shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He decided he needed to get out of here before he made a fool of himself and pounced on the two of them. One Veela was bad enough – two was a catastrophe for a bloke like him, "Fleur, I dropped by to look at...in...yes, in on you at Bill's request. I see that you and Gabrielle are making out...erm, making do. I worked up...around the property and secured some boards on the shed. I'm going to head over to the Burrow now to check in on Mum and Dad."

He honestly looked like he'd been hit by a series of confunding charms. Crimson from his roots to his toes, he made for the Floo and was gone in a flash. Gabrielle couldn't help but hazard a giggle. Fleur's warning glance did not stop her, "Que veux-tu?" Remembering Fleur preferred that she speak English when they were in England Gabrielle continued, "_You've_ tormented le garcon since I was a fille."

"Girl," Fleur reminded her sister. "And 'Erminee 'ated me for eet. Do you weesh to make her an enemee as you try to gain 'Arry's attentions?" Gabrielle shook her head causing Fleur to smile, "Smart seester."

Meanwhile Ron sat at the Burrow still shaking the cobwebs from his head. Molly Weasley made him a sandwich as he sat at the table. She shot a wary eye at him, "Son, were you out late last night? You don't look yourself and you smelled like a pub when you hugged me."

"No, mum. Well, actually yes...but no." Molly's suspicious glance prompted him to explain, "Hermione convinced me to go speak to Neville about that business he and Harry got into a few weeks back and he and I had a pint. It was some serious business so I wasn't about to decline once he agreed. But I'm not snoggered or anything. I just got back from Bill's. Fleur's sister is visiting."

Molly couldn't help but smile but she kept her comments to herself. Instead she asked about Harry, "When are you going to get my other little boy here? I miss Harry. The boy all but lives here for five years and then he disappears."

"Mum, you live just as far from us as we do you," Ron reminded her. "You know it's not you and dad. It's the Burrow. The entire place reminds him of sis' and he gets all melancholy. It takes a full week to get him set right again after he visits, Mum." Ron got a grand idea, "Why don't you and Dad come over for dinner one night this week? I know you've been itching to meet Eliza. I'll make sure she's there. We'll have drinks after. Hermione looks for any opportunity to use the dance floor and I'm sure we could round a few couples up for the occasion."

"Well, I haven't had a proper night of dancing in quite some time. Your dad is a fair dancer but to get him on the floor is slightly easier than getting him away from his Muggle contraptions." Molly considered a moment more, "Ask Hermione when she'd like to have us over and I'll make sure that your father and I are there." Molly became more severe as she placed a sandwich overflowing with meats and cheeses in front of him, "But you tell that boy that if he continues to avoid me then I'll have my best stinging curses ready for him."

"Mum," Ron said before taking a big bite, "Yoo cwan tewl him yosewf at thwee dance."

After his visit to the Burrow Ron still didn't feel like returning home. He decided that he'd take a look around Diagon Alley. He was happy he did because he was overcome with inspiration when he passed by a familiar shop. He rushed back to Grimmauld Place and exclaimed to Hermione, "I know what would cheer Harry up!"

"What?" Hermione asked.

Ron explained. Hermione listened and nodded agreement when he was done, "That might do it. I was thinking of Lydia the other afternoon. She'd probably appreciate it too. Oh, which reminds me, I came upon a lead on the necklace. We need to return to Greece soon."

"Greece? I thought it was called..."

Hermione pursed her lips, "You know what I mean. Everyone stares at me blankly when I call it Hellas. At any rate, We need to visit Olympia soon. Before I return to University if at all possible."

**A/N: I felt this would be a good time to see a little of the world through Ron's eyes. Ron has obviously adjusted to life after Voldemort better than Harry. **


	16. TP 16 The Caretaker

**Chapter 16 – The Caretaker**

**Submitted: Sunday 17 March 2012 Last submitted: Wednesday 13 March 2012**

**A/N: I have recently made changes to my profile. One of these changes is a list of characters that I have developed over the past two books. Because of the serial nature of the stories I know it is easy to forget a character you last read about a year before. **

Patience was not Harry's strongest attribute, "Where are we going?"

"To do something we should have done a long ago," Hermione answered cryptically. She hoped surprise would overcome reluctance. Diagon Alley was thriving with a bustling business due to the holiday. The vision before her was a stark contrast to the Alley of the last several years. She was proud that it was her hands, and those of her mates, that made the change.

She remembered that fateful walk in April of 1998 when they bungled along the Alley to Gringotts for the Hufflepuff Cup. Back then, Diagon Alley was a grey wasteland riddled with the desperate and the vile. This Diagon Alley was much different. The shops were a rainbow of colours. It was like a circus gone out of control. The music that played in the street was frivolous and happy. Street vendors and entertainers alike created the most unique displays of sound and sight. Even the sense of feeling...the air itself carried an electricity that caused your skin to tingle.

Harry was falling behind and she noticed he had stopped at the front of a bookstore. "Hermione, have you seen this?" he asked curiously.

She didn't have the patience. She grabbed him by the arm and literally dragged him into Eeylops. He wasn't happy about it, "I asked you a question."

"Save it. Do you see any you like?" Hermione asked impatiently.

Harry blinked. He knew where he was but it hadn't registered why they might be here. "What do we need an owl for?"

"_You_ need an owl. You are always borrowing everyone else's. In fact, you could use an entire flock of them. I've never seen a bloke write more than you. Between Andromeda, Shacklebolt, professors at school, goblins at Gringotts, George...need I go on?" She had counted each party off on her hand. When Harry shrugged she let out a 'Harrumph!'

"I get by." Harry grumbled.

"A wizard with a vault the size of yours should not _get by_. This is not a luxury. For you it is a necessity." Hermione took him by the hand, "I understand why you don't want to buy a new owl Harry. I'm not daft. But you need one. Now look around."

Knowing he wasn't getting out of this, Harry took a good look around.

The shop was deceptive in size. It felt very small but the selection of owls was amazing. It wasn't as loud as you would think with so many but Hermione could hear several hooting and chattering quietly amongst themselves. Hermione watched him intently as he walked along the corridor of cages that held the owls. Most of the owls would either shy away from him or he'd shy away from them. As was the norm, the male owls had no interest in him. Owls, like most birds, preferred an owner of the opposite sex. Harry picked up three to look more closely at them.

The first was a Great Horned Owl that seemed slightly out of sorts. The shopkeeper explained from behind the counter, "She's from the States...across the pond. Doesn't have a name yet." The owl's wings spread as she caught balance and Hermione estimated they must have spanned at least four feet. She was obviously a powerful bird and could carry a large load. Mainly brown with white markings along the breastbone, she was serious looking – with feathery eyebrows that gave her the look of an academic. Harry tried to pet her but she nipped at him nervously with her beak. He showed the bird to Hermione, "Reminds me of Professor Babbling." Finally he returned her to her cage.

Harry soon found another and he carefully pulled her out of her cage door. "Aren't you beautiful?" he asked as he lovingly stroked the chin of her white heart-shaped face. Her body was a rich reddish brown with speckles. Her chest was darker and spotted. She wasn't as large as the horned owl, Hermione noted, but she was much more affectionate. She nestled her forehead against Harry's chin and cooed softly.

"That one fancies you," the shopkeeper observed. "I always thought she was a fair judge of character. She's a barn owl – a real beauty."

After a few moments, Harry placed the affectionate owl back in her cage as well. She hooted a sad goodbye. Hermione couldn't help but notice the guilty look on Harry's face and the way that he waved goodbye to her as he rejoined his search.

The third owl that caught his eye was a large grey owl. It was as large as the horned owl he'd picked up previously, "This one could carry nearly any load I suspect."

"Who?" asked the owl.

"You," Harry answered with a laugh. This caused Hermione to laugh too until Harry abruptly stopped. There a few cages away was what could have been a twin of Hedwig. Hermione took the grey owl from Harry as he absent-mindedly handed it to her. When he tried to open the snowy white's cage, the owl shot him a fierce look and made a threatening screech. It looked ready to attack. This took Harry aback. He walked out of the shop with a mournful look.

With the grey owl still perched on her hand, Hermione watched helplessly as the bell above the door jingled. The shopkeeper shook her head, "That one there is a cousin of his first owl. I remember when Hagrid came in here and I helped him pick the beauty out. It's so hard picking an owl for a young boy you've never met but with that one I just knew. I was told she died a few years back?"

"She was killed," Hermione lamented as she put the grey owl away. "She was one of Harry's favourite things in the whole world and Voldemort killed her. He still hasn't gotten over it."

"Well, he shouldn't let himself get wound up by that piece a work." The shopkeeper pointed at the snowy white, "First off, he's a male and an alpha one at that. Very territorial. He and that owl would be bickering until the day one of them died. If he wants a snowy white then he should get this one here."

The shopkeeper pulled a cage from behind the counter with a beautiful white owl with only the faintest hint of grey markings where her ears might be. She looked positively majestic as the shopkeeper pulled her out of her cage and she might have been the largest owl in the shop, "She's the queen of my shop and she knows it. She's my personal owl. But for all that boy's done for all of us, I'd part with her for him."

Hermione thought to herself. Harry wouldn't buy an owl himself - she was now quite sure. She and the shopkeeper spoke a little longer and they came to an agreement.

ZZZZ

Later that night, Hermione watched as Mrs. Weasley and Harry were carrying on a cheerful conversation about food of all things, "You really must send them the recipe. I cannot understand how a restaurant with such a reputation can pass off such rubbish as treacle tart."

Ron listened happily, "Is my best mate becoming a food snob?"

"You should try some for yourself. If you can eat the entire thing without complaint I'll pay for it," Harry challenge.

Ron's look said it all and Arthur couldn't help but observe, "I believe we have a taker."

"Ministry at Noon on Monday," Harry declared. "I'll have enough of them delivered for anyone willing to try. Meet us at the Auror's offices near my cubicle."

With that the conversation moved to the trainees' promotions. Hermione's eye made it down the table. Seamus and Dean sat flirting with the most recent occupant of the guest room on the second landing but they whooped it up when Arthur congratulated them all with a toast.

With that the conversation moved to the trainees' new assignments. Ron had been promoted to a team leader as all had suspected he would and he now led the second of two teams working on the mysterious shadow case that Harry still had no clue about. Ewan oversaw his own team and guided Ron on his first official assignment.

Seamus and Dean were still inseparable. Michael Corner had partnered with an older Auror Harry had never met and was working on a string of thefts in a wizard settlement a few miles outside Birmingham. Harry was assigned to partner with Katie Bell until Eliza not so subtly offered to switch. It had caused a major reshuffling of the department that resulted in Harry partnering with Auror Mason. Such was the clout of the daughter of an Elder.

Hermione sniggered to herself when when Eliza explained, "She's more experienced and she will keep him out of trouble. Besides, he'll be able to work days again and he'll rate a much better case load with her as his partner."

"And you won't have to worry about me alone with a single witch?" he asked with more than a hint of mirth.

"I see how the other witches look at you, Harry." Eliza answered defiantly. His boyish grin cut the tension and she kissed him on the cheek. They were here to celebrate and both knew bickering over this was nonsense. Hermione wished that she and Ron could let a potential row go so easily.

Soon dinner was cleared and the tables were banished away as Kreacher helped set up the phonograph. Hermione had invited even more guests for the dance and many had trickled in from the Floo to the Sitting Room as those downstairs finished their meal. Hermione had recently designed a self-serve bar in the Sitting Room that would mix drinks for the guests for just such an occasion. It only had a limited number of recipes available but she experimented with new ones each party. It received rave reviews and many guests held such drinks in their hands now as they filed their way downstairs.

As Hermione greeted the newcomers she noticed Fleur and her sister pass by. She'd been warned by Molly that Gabrielle had as much an effect on Ron as Fleur had ever had. Instinctively, she kept a careful eye on the younger witch throughout the night. It didn't take long to notice that Gabrielle's eyes often were on a certain wizard with ruffled hair and brilliant green eyes. The young Veela carefully kept herself in the general view of this particular wizard – all the while, dancing with any other wizard that was willing.

And they were all willing. Her Veela charms were in full force as she attempted to capture Harry's eye. It was obvious to Hermione - the blokes on the dance floor stared at the seductively dressed witch as if they'd guzzled droughts of Amortentia. Several other witches began to notice as well and many did not look happy. In order to avoid a scene Hermione pulled the younger Veela to the side, "Gabby, it is so lovely to see you. You've developed quite a following." To drive the point home she gestured to the wizards who were making a solid effort at leading their partners ever closer to the Veela.

Gabrielle took a moment to admire her work. Hermione pointed out the obvious, "You've gotten the blokes attention but if you don't cut it out you may not make it out of here alive. You have your fair share of angry witches on your hands as well." And indeed there was no shortage of angry stares meeting Gabrielle's gaze. She'd only been concentrating on the blokes...one in particular. Gabrielle gave a nervous wave toward the angry stares and signalled best she could she'd stop being such a distraction.

Once the charms were toned down, Gabrielle couldn't help but ask, "Why is _he _ignoring me?"

Hermione followed the younger witches line of sight, "Oh, Gabrielle, I taught him a charm months ago that helps him ignore much of the Veela glamours. He uses it quite often when Fleur visits.

"Oh," Gabrielle couldn't hide her disappointment. "Do you think you might be able to arrange for me to dance with him?"

"I'll see what I can do, Gabby, but you already have Eliza's wary eye on you. Please don't do anything to make a scene." Just then the music stopped and Fleur did everything but drag Harry over to be reintroduced to her sister, "You remember leetle Gabrielle."

Gabrielle had lost her bravado now that she knew her charms were lost on him. She waved shyly at Harry, "Hello." Harry, remembering his party two years before and shot a careful glance at Eliza across the room before answering, "How have you been, Gabrielle? It's been a while."

Fleur practically pushed them together. Hermione's teeth clenched nervously. She really liked Eliza. She was really such a nice witch. Hermione couldn't think of anyone that Harry was so well matched with. Eliza was pretty and smart. She didn't mind how quiet Harry was and she more than made up for it. Eliza even deflected much of the criticism of Harry in the media and she did an admirable job of defending him publicly when he was unwilling to do so.

Even now, she had swayed public opinion back to his side somewhat with the whole elf case stating that Harry should be able to do anything he wished with his own elves. She even offered a veiled attack at the Malfoys in story a few days before in _**Witch Weekly**_, _"At least he doesn't beat the poor buggers like one of the more well-off families did a few years back. He treats them with the same love and compassion he would his own family."_

Hermione had spent many a morning after Harry had fallen asleep eating breakfast with Eliza. She loved Harry so much more than Hermione thought he even realised. Granted, it reminded her of Ginny her first few years but Hermione knew Eliza was way ahead of Ginny in one respect. Eliza saw Harry for who he was and instead of trying to change him. She embraced his flaws as well as his charms.

Fleur had already pushed Harry and Gabrielle onto the dance floor. Not seeing Ron, Hermione grabbed George from nearby and pulled him out to dance as near as she could to the couple. George couldn't help but ask, "What's the hurry?" Quickly he answered himself with an "Oh..." as he noticed Hermione shamelessly listen and watch the action between Gabrielle and Harry.

Gabrielle held her partner closely. This only seemed to make Harry more uncomfortable. Harry would occasionally steal a glance at his girlfriend from afar. Hermione found it so cute how he tried to protect her feelings without even realising it. Harry was as cognisant as anyone of the constant flirting of witches around him. Always the protector of those he cared for, he was now protecting Eliza's heart as ferociously as he would the body or soul of one of his mates.

Finally regaining some of her confidence, Gabrielle gazed up at her dance partner, "Arry, would you be interested in an afternoon out with me. I want to take Victoire to see Diagon Allee but it would 'elp if I 'ad someone to show us around." She batted her beautiful blue eyes hopefully.

"I'm sorry, Gabrielle," Hermione could hear him answer, "I don't think it would be a good idea."

"But why not?" The young Veela obviously was not used to the word no, "You would not enjoy my company?"

Harry sighed, "I just can't Gabrielle. Aside from me having a girlfriend that I do like very much, you are only sixteen years old. It feels odd. To me you are still the little girl that I pulled out of the lake." He dug in when she shot a glare at him, "I know that does not sit well with you but you must see it from my end. You _**are**_ still a girl. A stunning, impossibly beautiful girl. Fleur has explained to me more times than I can count how as a Veela you are now legally considered of age. And I can plainly see you have grown up..."

Gabrielle obviously couldn't stand being referred to as a 'little girl.' Gently but firmly Gabrielle took Harry's head in her hand. She breathed in his ear so that Hermione didn't hear her whisper, "You have no idea. I am no child. Already Harry, I can feel your wants and your needs. I can feel them in my bones. Like it or not, I was bred to make wizards just like you forget every witch they ever loved. I don't just fulfill wizards' fantasies...I am every wizards' fantasy. I am every bit woman and I wish to be your companion. I choose you."

Despite the charms she had taught him, Hermione noticed beads of sweat collect on his brow. This close, with the Veela's breath in his ear, Hermione feared that if Gabrielle insisted they go upstairs Harry might just relent. Hermione didn't hear what Gabrielle whispered next either - the words were only for Harry. With the Veela's breath moist on his ear and her soft hand gently stroking his hair she whispered, "I heard you, Harry. You said you_** liked **_her. You did not say you _**love**_ her..."

Little did Gabrielle know that these very words would break the spell she had over him. His instinct to protect overcame his raw desire. He pulled his ear away from her lips and said just loud enough for Hermione to hear, "_She_ loves _me._ And she's good for me. She has brought me back from a terrible depression that I cannot even describe. Since we've been together she has made me the happiest I have been since I can remember. And I can trust her. And she doesn't get all moody when I'm quiet. Really, she's everything I could hope for in my own way."

It is said that a Veela scorned is a terrible sight. Indeed, for a flash Hermione saw a hideous vision that for many wizards was followed by a dagger to the gut. When she blinked Gabby had returned to her same beautiful self, "This witch must be something if you won't so much as take me in public for a tour of London...with Victoire as chaperone no less," she cheeked. "Either that or you have no interest in me whatsoever."

"It's not you, I promise," Harry insisted. Hermione couldn't even deny what he said. She had seen him nearly melt in the Veela's arms moments before. Hermione watched Harry try to let the younger witch down easy, "I'm with someone. I wouldn't be much of a bloke if I were to simply cast Eliza to the side as soon as I found another attractive witch, no matter how lovely she might be." Gabrielle wasn't entirely satisfied with the answer but the song thankfully ended.

Without cue from Hermione, George took the initiative and cut in. Looking both reluctant and thankful, Harry watched as George led the Veela away to the next song. Hermione was happy he did the right thing but the look on Gabrielle's face as she danced with George tugged at her heart. Gabrielle was defeated and despondent.

If the wizards on the dance floor at 12 Grimmauld Place felt like they were basking in the sun only moments before, they now pulled their partners closer as a cold chill made their very hearts shiver. Mysteriously, to a one, they felt as if it would soon rain.

ZZZZZZZZZZ

The dance the weekend before was still fresh on Hermione's mind when she sat at her cubicle at the Department for Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. Wednesdays were always busy. The second Wednesday of every month was even more challenging recently because this was when the Breeder's Board for House Elves met. Narcissa was quickly making a name for herself after her conversation with Harry the month before.

Narcissa had already been appointed the Chair for the Hearing for Harry and his elves. The matriarch of the Malfoy family was using the position to reshape her image, Hermione was sure. The articles from the Daily Prophet took on a more and more positive spin toward her with each passing week.

Fortunately for Harry, Eliza continued to use Witch Weekly as a platform to speak on his behalf. She even gave an update on the progress of Winky's pregnancy when it was determined she was due in four months. Eliza seemed to be sent by the Fates themselves. This brought Hermione back thoughts from the weekend before.

Once George had safely pried Gabrielle away from Harry, Hermione and Eliza rushed upstairs for a chat. Watching from afar, Eliza had been deathly afraid that the Veela would steal Harry's heart away. When she heard how he had proclaimed his loyalty to her, she was all smiles. She was so pleased, in fact, that she rushed downstairs and pulled Harry up to his flat where she rewarded his gallantry with a hearty snog.

The next morning Harry was all smiles as he popped downstairs. He was unusually early and Hermione was unusually late which meant that she and Ron and Harry shared a rare breakfast together. "You seem rather happy this morning," noted Ron as he gave Harry a good looking over. Harry's eyes gleamed and his hair was even more dishevelled than normal. He still had a red line that crossed his cheek where a crease in the pillowcase had perhaps left a temporary mark.

"I can't say that I've ever been happier in my life," admitted Harry. "It's not like I have less problems than a year ago but life seems to be falling into place. I'm heading up a real investigation, I have a beautiful girlfriend who lavishes her affections on me and I have a house full of my mates."

Ron cocked his head and asked Hermione, "Is this our Harry? Did he actually say he was happy?"

"Aye," Hermione answered, "I imagine that I must be imagining things. Harry hasn't been like this since – maybe the first year on the train to Hogwarts? Surrounded by sweets and poking fun at me with a little of your help?" She got the reaction she was looking for, "I'm so happy for you, Harry. I knew you'd find it eventually. Eliza is really something special."

"If you only knew. She gets me. She doesn't push me – even when we are alone. Can I confide in you lot something personal without it making you sickish?"

They both nodded. Harry didn't often share his thoughts.

"At first she would get angry with me when we were together. You know? Snogging and such as that? She always wanted to take that next step. She complained it wound her up 'tighter than a Centaur locked in a barn' and she couldn't function the next day. One night a few weeks ago I noticed she stopped complaining and I asked her. She said she loved me so much that she just found a way to deal with it. I asked her more about it and she said she had found a potion that a mate of hers had turned her onto. She said 'it and a weekly ritual took the pangs away.' I wondered about it for a while but then I just assumed you might have given her some advice."

Hermione nodded. Eliza had indeed asked and Hermione decided it was time to visit the 'Ron Section' of the library at Hogwarts. She referred to it as the Ron Section because it was the only section that she could get Ron interested in. It was a special part of the Restricted Section that dealt with the practical matters of love. She had found it by accident when a student at Hogwarts and had spent quite some time perusing books from it when she could sneak in. Even now, when Ron came along, Madam Pince would give Hermione a cross-eyed look as if the librarian knew where she was headed to.

Seldom did she actually have to visit this portion of the library any more because she had taken Harry up on one of his many acts of generosity. He had given her essentially a blank check for her to buy books to fill both the second floor and her personal libraries at Grimmauld Place. The library downstairs held many tomes that were accessible to family and friends alike simply by dropping in. Her personal library held the more rare works on many different subjects including the books and papers gifted to her by Dumbledore.

She was such an avid collector of rare books that she had started a small war between Obscurus Books and the more fashionable Flourish and Blotts. Hermione found that while Flourish and Blotts had a better selection of more recent books, Obscurus called her at least weekly with rare copies of tomes she'd placed on her list. There, she'd already acquired nearly half of the books in Ron's Section and also picked up several more general use books like _Many Potente Potions_ as well.

Harry brought her back to the conversation with a look of gratitude, "Thank you so much for helping her with that. If you only knew. I think I've waited long enough, though. I think I'm going to ask her to marry me."

"What?" his mates blurted out in chorus. Ron followed up with, "I get it mate. She is smoking and she's into you and all. But do you love her?" Ron didn't want to admit it but he still held out hope that Harry would get back together with his sister. Now that they were apart, Ron was forced to admit he couldn't think of a better bloke for his sister. Besides, Eliza was a terrific witch but she was no Ginny.

Harry was confused by their not being excited, "I'm happy. She's everything I could want, right? She takes care of me. She isn't bothered by all of my baggage. She's not very high maintenance. Really, she's no maintenance at all except that she worries that I'm going to leave her. And honestly? I don't know how much longer I can hold out. Last night she nearly broke me – I could barely help myself."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Don't you think that could have partly been because of Gabrielle?" Harry's expression darkened. She knew it embarrassed him but she felt it needed to be considered, "You know how I feel about Eliza, but if you'd seen yourself with Gabby last night you'd have thought you were going to carry her up the stairs on your shoulder. Are you sure some of your enthusiasm last night wasn't due to residual feelings you felt for her? Don't look at me like that, Harry. It's a fair question."

Harry sulked, "Obviously you are not as excited at the idea as I'd hoped. But I'm happy."

Hermione frowned, "I know you are happy. I want to see you stay that way. Getting married to the wrong person...or too soon...could ensure that you won't be that way for long. Just promise you'll give it another month or so before you ask her. For me. It's been less than three months."

Silently, Harry begged Ron for reinforcements but there were none to be had, "Mate, just over a year ago you were asking my sister to marry you. I'm with Hermione. It's too soon. Marriage is more than shagging without feeling guilty. If that's all that it's about to you then you need to reconsider that promise you made to yourself. Maybe you shouldn't wait until marriage after all."

Ron and Hermione were rewarded with a scowl. So much for that rare happy mood that Hermione had found him in. As breakfast appeared before them Harry said the last words Hermione would hear from him all week, "Easy for you two to say. The two of you have always had each other." From that point forward, the only sound she'd hear from his mouth was the crunch of bacon.

And that's what bothered her. She wondered if she had been too quick to advise him against marrying Eliza. She also wondered how Eliza would react if he were to tell her about it. She had been distracted all week and now it kept her from concentrating on her work.

Narcissa jarred her out of her thoughts, "I've been told that you were looking for me." Hermione, if she were a cat, would have leapt to the ceiling and clung to it by her claws.

The older witch bared her teeth in a grin, "Did I take you by surprise, Dear?"

Hermione caught her breath as she nodded. She could still feel heart thump in her chest, "Mrs. Malfoy, I was wondering if we might speak about Harry's case?"

No longer with an audience, Narcissa's tone was calmer but no more helpful, "It would be improper, Dear, for me to discuss his hearing with you considering your relationship. I'm very sorry."

This left Hermione unfazed. She knew she'd get few details from the witch. "Actually, considering you were hearing the case I didn't expect you to know many details. What I was hoping was you'd let me know what they planned on charging Harry and the elves with. The Board hasn't been forthcoming but he does have the right to know."

"Ahhh...I suppose he does." Narcissa took on the look of a large cat preparing to pounce on its prey, "Harry, of course, will be charged civilly for his role in the matter as the owner of the elves."

"Harry only owns Kreacher," Hermione corrected, "Winky is a Free Elf."

"Yes, I expected you would bring that up. That is true. But that will be the initial claim by the Board." Narcissa pulled out a piece of parchment, "As for the elves, Kreacher shall be charged with aiding Winky with the act of illegally breeding."

"But," Hermione was about to protest.

"It will be decided at the hearing, Dear. I am aware of your argument but it is up to the Board as to whether they wish to pursue the charge. So far there is no proof. In fact, if this writer's account is true then eventually Kreacher came to enjoy the exercise and he performed it quite willingly."

Hermione pursed her lips. She knew this was technically true.

Narcissa again reviewed the parchment, "Winky will also be charged with seducing a known Servant Elf and making him complicit."

Now Hermione was upset, "I already said – she is a Free Elf. By your charter you may not charge her in a criminal manner."

"Again, Dear, it is not my place to argue the charges or even discuss them with you. But, for your information, she may be charged by the Board...or at the very least by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." Narcissa looked proud that she knew more than Hermione on the matter, "If you were as well versed with law governing Magical Creatures as I, you'd know that only magical creatures recognised by the Ministry as sovereign are exempt of direct jurisdiction of the Department when it comes to criminal actions. Only sovereign magical creatures may govern and discipline themselves." Narcissa explained.

Hermione tried to remember back to her Magical Law lessons at Hogwarts. She couldn't remember what qualified a group for sovereign status. The concept of sovereignity was that a race of creatures that governed themselves could make their own customs and laws and that they would be responsible for discipline of their own kind. This was true of Centaurs, Goblins, Giants and even Satyrs but because Servant Elves were considered chattel property of wizards they were disciplined by the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures just as Dragons and other non-social creatures were.

"Don't waste your time, Miss Granger. Your thoughts are as visible to me as if I were using Legimens. There is no way to make Winky eligible. She is the only living Free Elf. In order for her to be considered truly sovereign she must _**both**_ be free and have in her possession lands that have special historical significance to previously Free Elves. Think about it, Hermione. Think about it closely. There is no record of where the Elves came from. The Elves have been Servants for as long back as we have records...the only stories we have of Free Elves are legends. There are no lands of historical significance to Free Elves and no known land exists belonging to the elves where Free Elves have been buried. We have jurisdiction."

The look on the face of Narcissa was not victory. She was merely stating facts. As it was, the lesson was over, "I apologise Miss Granger, but this is all I can share with you before the hearing. Harry has no chance. I'd begin to prepare him for the eventuality that his elves will be put to death."


	17. TP 17 The Master of Puppets

**Chapter 17 – The Master of Puppets**

**Submitted: Thursday 22 March 2012 Last submission: Tuesday 20 March 2012**

Harry didn't understand it. The hearing wasn't going well at all. He'd guzzled down that luck potion not ten minutes before the hearing started and while he felt the same tingly feeling as before, nothing seemed to be going his way. He wondered if Slughorn had been right to warn him that it might weaken with time. Even worse, what if Slughorn had mixed it incorrectly and his luck was actually worse than before?

Narcissa was not giving Harry an inch. She alone sat at a large table across from Harry about ten fifteen feet away. Harry's table sat four including Hermione to his right and the two elves between them. She was allowed to advise Harry but was not allowed to speak on his behalf.

The other six members of the Breeders' Board sat on the far right of the room at a long table with their backs to the wall. They were allowed to ask questions at their discretion. Each of them glared at him with a hatred that only could have been nourished over time.

Behind him sat no less than a hundred wizards and witches that watched with great interest. Writers were allowed in but cameras were banned. The Minister was not here but many Directors were. Arthur sat toward the back of the room but had popped over to offer support before the hearing had begun.

Already, the transcript of Harry's interview with Ewan Duncan had been read into the record. Questions were asked of that writer Sean who had started this whole row up with his article. The writer was asked how he had come across the story. Harry was particularly interested in this part of the Hearing. The writer, though, insisted time and again that his sources were privileged. "What does that even mean?" the Board member to the furthest left finally asked. "We shall have you sent to Azkaban if you can't answer the question." Harry decided this was something he was willing to agree with the Board on.

"Nay," Sean insisted. "Only the Wizengamut has the power to force me to release my source and only when they can show that the name of the source will bring a witch or wizard to justice in a criminal matter. This proceeding is being held by you for the very fact that it is a _civil_ matter. You should at least know this much I would think. Am I to believe you lot are not aware of even the basic rules of civil procedures?"

"Quiet!" Narcissa ordered. Red faced, she excused the witness. Next, Winky was addressed and the questions started out benignly enough. Then, one question got the room into an uproar. Tom Hadnot, sitting with the other Board members, asked, "Winky, what gave you the idea that it would be acceptable for you to breed in the first place. You are aware of the rules in place, are you not?"

The elf looked sadly at Harry. When he nodded for her to answer she did...reluctantly, "Winky asked Master Potter for a baby. Master Potter...he...er..." She looked ready to hurt herself but Harry took one of her small hands in his and coaxed her on. Tears streamed down her face but she answered, "...Master Potter told Winky that Winky could...could make a baby." Harry could feel her hand begin to shake.

"So Mr. Potter was aware of this whole business from the beginning?" Mr. Hadnot asked triumphantly.

Harry stood up, "May I speak?"

"No!" Narcissa insisted, "You shall sit down and let this elf answer the question. We don't need your charming remarks or boyish smile involved in all of this. We'll get to you when we are ready."

And that's how much of the Hearing went. When it came time for Harry to answer questions, Mr. Hadnot again did most of the asking, "What could possibly have gone through your small little mind when you agreed to allow this House Elf to begin to breed?"

Harry was defiant, "She is a _Free_ Elf. She has a right to do as she wishes."

"There is no delineation between Free and Servant Elves when it comes to the rules of the Breeder's Board," Mr. Hadnot insisted. "The rule states that 'an Elf may not breed until its Master determines with the Breeders' Board that the action is permitted.' The fact that she literally raped that poor House Elf there is even doubly damning to both Winky and yourself."

"She is her own master," Harry insisted. "Being free, she should not be under the Authority of the Breeders' Board. It was pointed out to me by someone very well read that the law that created the Breeders' Board reads, 'An organisation meant to regulate and govern the breeding, placement and relocation of _Servant_ Elves.' As far as I can tell, this means you do not have the authority to make laws governing Free Elves."

"Silence!" Narcissa again insisted. "You were not asked a question Mr. Potter and therefore had no reason to answer." Mr. Hadnot and the other Board members were initially taken aback by Harry's answer but seemed to regroup behind Narcissa and now sat with smug smiles.

Another Board member spoke for the first time. Grey haired and quite stately in appearance, he seemed less arrogant than pompous, "While I will agree to the crux of your argument, it remains that she mated with a Servant Elf and this does fall within our purvue. A Free Elf, if he or she is to know freedom, must then be accountable for her actions. Because she asked your counsel and you are her employer, you too are involved. Did you at any time advise her that she should not mate with a Servant Elf without the express consent of the Breeder's Board?"

"I didn't think..."

Harry was cut off by Narcissa, "Of course you didn't think! Answer the question 'Yes' or 'No!'"

Reluctantly Harry shook his head. "No," he answered in defeat. By now he was red with anger. The look he gave the board members only made them feel more giddy.

"I move that we are ready for a decision to be reached," the grey haired wizard proclaimed.

"Second!" called out wizard Tom Hadnot with glee. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"I didn't have a chance to provide my side!" Harry shouted. "Shouldn't I be able to speak on my behalf?"

Narcissa ignore him, "Those in favour? Those Against?" The 'Ayes' had it and the Board retired to an antechamber to confer. A dull roar came from those that had watched the event. Hermione passed a sidelong glance at her mate, "That went rather well."

Harry was beside himself, "She didn't even offer me a chance to provide a defence. She cut me off at every opportunity. I'm going to get killed in there. Who knows what they will do to Winky and Kreacher."

A bullfrog croak answered him, "Master Potter needs not worry for Kreacher. Kreacher knows that Master Potter has done all that he can."

"Winky agrees."

"I don't know what I'll do if they take you away from me," Harry admitted. "You two are family." This only caused more tears to stream from Winky's large blue eyes. With her small legs dangling from the human sized chair, she looked like a small girl who'd been reprimanded by the Headmaster.

The Board began filing back in. The crowd began to quiet as Narcissa followed behind. Her face was like stone as she stared at Harry. Only after the last witch was silent did she begin:

"This matter is a very difficult one to administer an appropriate punishment for. Never has the Board heard a matter regarding the actions of a Free Elf and its employer. This will become a more common issue as I've been informed by the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. There will likely be more Free Elves expected in the coming years. As it is, this Hearing was to determine the responsibility of a Elf Master in encouraging the illicit activity of two elves."

Narcissa addressed Harry directly, "I have been very clear how I feel about you. I have made it known that I would do all I could within the law to punish you for your misdeeds. It is only appropriate and fair that you have the same harsh punishment levied upon you as your kind levied on others for their transgressions."

"I was presented with three alternatives to deal with you. I have decided to agree to the one that hits most wizards hardest. I have decided to fine you in the amount of five _**million**_ Galleons...the exact same amount you recommended we be fined at our trial," she spat out. "Let's see how _**you**_ feel when _**you**_are a little lighter in the wallet."

The Board seemed positively giddy. There was a roar of anger amongst the crowd but Narcissa quieted them with a hiss and a loud thump, "Quiet!" When the audience had calmed down she continued, "One million shall go to the Ministry Treasury. The other four shall go to Hogwarts as an Endowment which I shall personally oversee the distribution of."

Harry was about to protest when Hermione got his attention and shook her head. Narcissa addressed him, "Mr. Potter, do you wish to appeal my decision?"

Five million Galleons? For a ruddy misunderstanding with an elf? He wanted to yell and scream and tell her off. It wasn't the gold. It was that she equated his transgressions on par with hers - that by extension what he did was as bad as her. He wanted so much to tell her exactly what she could do with her decision that his fists clenched under the table. Again, Hermione's face made him reconsider. Dully, he acquiesced, "Nay, I accept the punishment."

"Madam Malfoy," Mr. Hadnot seemed unsatisfied, "I believe that we should remove the House Elves from his possession as well. As I mentioned in the..."

Narcissa sounded flustered, "Miss Hermione Granger would surely not allow that to happen. Is that not true, Miss Ganger?"

Hermione stood up and she bore a signed certificate, "That is indeed true, Madam Malfoy. As it would so happen, the Board member that sat in on Harry's interview in June signed off on an Agreement that Harry would not be required to relinquish the elves unless either he or one of the elves was found guilty of a _**criminal**_ offence." Hermione faced Mr. Hadnot, "This was merely a civil hearing, sir. As you were so eloquently reminded earlier in the hearing, a wizard cannot be tried for criminal manners by this Board."

"That is rubbish!" exclaimed Mr. Hadnot.

Hermione hazarded a cheek, "Dear Sir, that is what happens when you send a Crabbe to do a wizard's work." Vincent Crabbe's uncle happened to be a member of the Breeder's Board and happened to be the bloke that had sat in on the interview. Hermione noticed that Narcissa appeared to take great joy in Crabbe's oversight despite the embarrassment to the Board. Mr. Herman Crabbe appeared to have the sudden urge to be anywhere but the Hearing and slinked further into his seat as the other members glared at him.

Narcissa wrapped things up, "If Mr. Potter agrees to the punishment then this hearing is over. Is there any more business before us?"

Hadnot immediately sought to be recognised, "I'd like to make a motion to open a Hearing for the execution of the House Elf Kreacher for breeding illegally."

"Second" at least two Board members shouted. Harry winced. He'd been warned of this very possibility.

Hermione shot up a hand like it was the first day of lessons and Narcissa couldn't help but smile as she recognised her, "Would you care to explain to my board why it would be a waste of time to try the elf Kreacher and save us all a long and boring Hearing?"

"Well," Hermione fidgeted under the serpent-like stare of Narcissa, "Mr. Hadnot claimed himself that Kreacher was sexually assaulted. How could he be responsible for something that was forced upon him?" There was a roar amongst the Board as they seemed ready to mutiny. Narcissa would have none of it, "Don't look at me like that! I could have let you go on for hours over this whole business and Miss Granger over there would have brought up this very fact in front of the Wizengamut during the appeal. Would you like to be the laughing stock of the entire Wizard Government?" She glared at Hadnot and hissed, "Twice now in a manner of minutes your's and Crabbe's incompetence have made us look like fools. Would you care to try for a third?"

Hadnot couldn't help himself, "I move that Winky be tried for Sexual Assault on a Servant Elf and be put to death."

"Second!" this time the entire panel shouted.

"Nay!" Narcissa in turn shouted back. She threw her hands out in exasperation as if she were trying to say, 'These are the Duffers I'm forced to work with.'

She calmed herself down and then addressed the Board, "I'm willing to try this boy_ and_ his elves for _any_ real charge you can bring, but again...if we were to go through this case, Hermione here would merely point out that we have already agreed that our charter only allows us to discipline Servant Elves in criminal matters. Again, let me explain. Harry would appeal to the Wizengamut...They overturn...We would look like fools."

The Director for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures stood up and was recognised by Narcissa, "This is true Mr. Hadnot." He pointed to Hermione, "This young witch has made it very clear that Free Elves are under our purview."

"So what do you plan to do?" asked a flabbergasted Hadnot.

"Nothing, actually," the Director explained. "I have very specific instructions from the Minister that this is a matter that the elves should handle themselves. He said that because it was transgression against a fellow elf that we have no jurisdiction unless the injured party asks us to step in. Otherwise the elves would handle it under their own legal system."

Now Hadnot threw up his hands, "Wait a minute! The elves have no legal system! They are not a sovereign body! We are the legal system because all elves are servants! We make up the rules! This board! Us!"

The Director shook his head. "Actually sir, that would be true except that there is _**one**_ Free Elf and she has the right to self government." The Director seemed to be enjoying this a little too much. He ceremoniously acknowledged the Free Elf, "Miss Winky, it has recently come to my attention that you and your fellow Free Elves are hereby recognised by the Minister as a sovereign body on par with the Centaurs, Giants, Satyrs and Goblins. As such, do you wish to prosecute yourself for your actions?"

Winky looked confused. Hermione whispered something in her ear. "Winky was not sure. But Misses Hermione says that Winky should say no. So...no."

"Very well," the Director answered, "Kreacher, it is my responsibility to ask on behalf of the Wizengamut if you wish to have Winky prosecuted for her actions against you."

Kreacher thought to himself quietly. Hermione bent over Winky to whisper in his ear as well but he glared at her, "Kreacher can think for Kreacher," he croaked. The anticipation in the room steadily built until, "Kreacher would like to be free."

Misunderstanding, Harry couldn't pull a sock off fast enough. He tried to hand the sock to his House Elf but the elf shrunk away from it. Again he croaked his familiar bullfrog croak, "No. Kreacher is a good House Elf. Kreacher is House Elf to the noble House of Potter. Kreacher was House Elf to the most noble House of Black. A good House Elf is not free. A good House Elf serves his Master." Kreacher pushed the sock away, "Do not turn Kreacher away. Please, Kreacher is a good House Elf. Kreacher only wished to be free to think."

Harry understood what Hermione had claimed so many times. The elves had been servants for so long that they couldn't comprehend a life otherwise. Their whole identities were wrapped up in the wizards they served. "All right, Kreacher." He put his sock in a pocket, "But Kreacher, you must answer the Director's question. Do you wish to have Winky prosecuted for what she did to you? She did hurt you. You have a right to justice."

The hook-nosed elf considered his female counterpart sitting next to him. Harry could feel both the pain and the love that Kreacher felt for Winky. Apparently, so could the rest of the chamber. Hadnot looked ready to goad the elf into a decision but Kreacher answered on his own, "Kreacher wants Winky to be free."

A collective breath could be heard from the Gallery. There was a mixture of disappointment and relief but mostly relief. The Board sitting opposite Harry was visibly upset but they'd lost the will to argue. The previous ten minutes had been an embarrassment. Narcissa no longer withheld any of her contempt for Hadnot as she twisted her verbal knife deeper into the wound, "No more motions? Are you sure? You were certainly on a roll just moments ago." She took his silence as a no, "Seeing that I am the chair of this catastrophe of a meeting - I am not allowed to make motions. Would someone please move to close this meeting?"

A series of shouts announced, "So moved!" and "Second!" and "Aye!"

As the crowd filed out, Hadnot came rushing to the Director for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, "Wait a minute. In order for a race of creatures to be considered sovereign they must have a parcel of land that has been claimed by them. It must be proved that at least one of their kind rest on this land and it must be considered historically significant to the race. Otherwise, they are simple animals with their fates resting in our hands."

The Director shook his head, "Hadnot, I'm impressed."

The Board member accepted the Director's observation as an admission of loss, "Admit it, you didn't think I'd consider this. I'll simply have the Department pursue this and we _**shall **_have her tried. She may not be a Servant but unless she is a sovereign she still falls under the Department's responsibility.

Hermione already had the papers out. The Director pointed to them, "No, you fool, I wasn't impressed by you. I'm impressed by how easily Hermione continues to out-manoeuvre you. She's already thought of it, Tom. Look here, she had Bill Weasley sell a small bit of land to Winky weeks ago and she had a small shed placed there. Winky now sleeps there when she isn't performing her chores around the cottage."

"But there isn't..."

"...Yes. There is," the Director interrupted. "You really are a moron Tom. It's the place where that elf Dobby was buried. You remember the one? No I suppose you don't. I'll let Mrs. Malfoy fill you in on the details of how he became a Free Elf. I have more important things to attend to than speak with the village idiot – like finding replacements for you lot."

Meanwhile, Harry felt strangely compelled to follow Narcissa out of the chamber. He stalked her close behind until he saw his opportunity. As she passed a dark corridor, he rushed forward and caught her by the arm. He pulled her into the corridor roughly to have a word with her, "Really? After all that I did for you?"

"What, Potter?" she asked silkily. "What did I do to you, exactly?"

Harry thought for minute. It made him furious that she had fined him. She had made a very public show by fining him the very total that her family had been fined. It was embarrassing.

"You are not as daft as you are putting on, are you?" She softened for the first time since the whole affair began, "Oh, Harry. There are so many more worse things that we could have done. Do you really think it should have taken us three months to bring you to justice? It takes time to alter a trial...and that's really what this was."

Harry wasn't convinced, "How much worse could it have been? As you said yourself, you couldn't try the elves."

Narcissa flashed wicked grin, "Are you sure Harry? Do you know how lucky you were? If Hermione had not received so many little hints these past few months then you would have seen just how heartless we could have been. Do you think it was an accident that I pointed out to her before the hearing that we could still try Winky as a criminal because elves still technically weren't a sovereign race? _I_ was the one that whispered in that fool Hadnot's ear that I wanted to see justice for '_**my poor aunt's elf Kreacher'**_ for being raped. I even intimated that such a _**'weak little old thing as myself'**_ needed a strong wizard to point out such a travesty. And during the recess of your hearing? I pointed out how it might take you down a notch if you had to suffer the same fate as me...having to lose all of that money...'_**it was so much,'**_I whined_."_

She rolled her eyes, "Harry, only those that are truly wealthy understand how little gold is really worth. If you have a problem - and gold will solve the problem – and you have enough gold – then you do not really have a problem, do you? You will make back all that gold in less than a year's time. None of those fools will see it that way. Just as my opponents thought that the gold they fined me was an obscene amount...these fools believe they actually hurt you. In the end, though, their victory was a hollow one, now wasn't it?"

"You were actually trying to _help_ me?"

"Young boy, I'm a Slytherin. I aided both of us. After today I'll be seen as the only competent member of the Board and the others will be replaced. That means I will become the permanent Chair. Aside from that, I've already made arrangements to secure the open seat on the Board of Regents at Hogwarts for Draco in return for the four million Galleons. Better your gold than mine," she winked. "Soon, given Draco does well, our family shall regain much of our former influence and he shall be respected and feared as his father before. Who knows? Maybe one day he will succeed where Lucius failed and he will be come Minister."

Harry shivered at the thought. "Neither of you did yourself any favours after your public displays the past few months against me."

"Pfff," Narcissa shrugged, "It is better to be feared and loathed than loved and walked on. We made a name for ourselves with those Purebloods that hate you. The school will want us as allies to calm them down during the more trying times. Besides, both my son and I made a very public threat and by the standards of the witnesses - we followed through. Witches and wizards grudgingly respect such things."

"Now, Harry, I really must make my leave. If I'm seen with you then all my efforts will have gone to waste. It would be no good consorting with the 'enemy,'" she teased. As she parted Harry noticed a gleam in her eye, "Harry, I've paid my debt to you. I saved your elves and they remain under your protection. Don't come looking for too many more favours."

**A/N: I know several of you were waiting for this chapter. Next chapter will be Harry's birthday. What will happen with Gabrielle? Harry and Hermione also plan to head back to Greece before the holiday ends. Reviews are always welcome – I missed hearing from many of you but HeartsGlow made up for it by reviewing four different chapters of Coward's Folly. **


	18. TP 18 Mischief Managed

**Chapter 18 – Mischief Managed**

**Submitted: Sunday 1 April 2012 **

Once Harry had the time to consider what he had really lost he was not quite so upset. As much as he hated to admit it Narcissa was correct. On its own gold was worthless. It didn't hurt that the moment they were alone, Hermione squealed and practically jumped into his arms, "Harry! I cannot believe it turned out so well!"

Ron was taken aback. He too had seen the judgement as excessive and Harry had not yet shared any details of his conversation with Narcissa. All the same, once Hermione explained to Ron the possible alternatives he reluctantly agreed, "I suppose _five million_ Galleons is a small amount compared to the lives of _two_ elves." Ron's admission was dripping with sarcasm.

"Erm, add another ten thousand to that." murmured Hermione sheepishly, "Gringotts allowed Winky to take out a loan to buy that tract near Shell Cottage. I don't believe I negotiated very well with Bill. I was forced to send him an owl with the offer price and I didn't want to let on why. I promised Gringotts that you'd be providing Winky with a sizeable bonus that would pay the loan."

Her nerve caught Harry by surprise, "You mean to tell me that you did all of this without asking me?" She nodded pitifully.

"You are absolutely brilliant," Harry insisted as he hugged her. She felt much better after that. Hermione knew she had done the right thing. It had all come after a moment of inspiration during her conversation with Narcissa. Her only worry had been that she had done it without consulting Harry first. No matter how good a cause, ten thousand was a rather large number.

"Changing topics," Ron asked hopefully, "What are our plans for your birthday, Harry?"

Hermione returned to her normal self and answered for her mate, "Party. Dancing. Hazel has a new band. It wouldn't hurt to ask her to have the band over to play."

Hazel Nutt had been the guitarist for the band Witch's Brew. They'd been very popular a few years before unceremoniously breaking up. Hazel, like most young witches, fancied Harry and Harry had a soft spot for her. The band played at Harry's birthday two years ago when Neville and Hannah had danced the night away. Secretly, Hermione hoped this would be enough to convince the couple to return to Grimmauld Place for Harry's party.

"What's the name?" Ron asked. "I haven't heard of them."

"_Mariana and the Mystics_," answered Hermione. "They've had a rough time of it so far."

Harry stood thoughtful, "Well, I'd love to hear them. You need any help with arrangements, Hermione?"

Ron was nearly swatted for his response, "When's the last time Hermione has let us have a hand in any arrangements?

A week later the house was once again full of witches and wizards. In fact, the music was so loud that noise complaints were made by both neighbours of 12 Grimmauld Place. There was a great amount of confusion by Muggles all around when noise could be heard in both neighbour's homes but none heard outside. No-one could figure out where it was coming from. One bloke's wife broke down in a fit of panic and insisted they were moving out "of this bloody haunted house."

"I'm sure there's a rational explanation," her husband insisted.

"Bloody right there is. The explanation is that this ruddy rat trap is haunted," the wife insisted.

The real explanation was that while Harry had placed charms sound proofing the third and fourth floors, he had forgotten the ground floor. Normally this was not a problem but tonight Mariana and the Mystics were playing a set that was reserved for a large dance hall or pub. The early part of the evening the dance floor was so loud that those on the ground floor didn't even bother speaking to each other.

Harry was oblivious to the noise or the confusion outside. He was busy trying to figure out how Hagrid had arrived through the Floo without destroying the mantle. He looked at Hagrid slouching slightly who commented, "Right lucky the Blacks built the place with 'igh ceilings." The half-giant took on a sick shade of green as claustrophobia set in, "I know it's yeh birthday 'Arry but is there a place we might chat alone?"

With much effort they found themselves in the library on the second landing - Hagrid barely fit through the doors but at least there weren't witches and wizards pushing in at him from all directions. Now that they had privacy, Hagrid pulled out a piece of parchment, "Got summat fer yeh, 'Arry...I aint shown it to 'nother soul."

In an awkward scrabbledy script Harry read:

_Hagrid, Hagrid, you must warn him now  
><em>_His eyes shall draw him to whom he loves  
><em>_But he must look with more than eyes  
><em>_For she is not whom she seems to be_

The parchment made no sense, "Hagrid, what is this?"

His giant friend scratched his head, "I dunno. Found it burnt into a tree in deh forest. Din't know of no-one else it might mean 'cept maybe you. As yeh know, I'm not deh most social of sorts. Don't get meh wrong, I got me circle of mates at deh pub but none is close enough that I'd be warn'n em of danger. Yer deh only bloke 'sides me that goes into deh forest anyhow."

"I can't see this being for me," Harry answered as he continued to study the parchment, "All the same, you mind if I keep it?"

"Tis' yers. I brought it fer you," Hagrid explained as he looked around. "Arry, you've made this into a mighty fine home." The library shelves were now stocked full of books. Candles gave the feel of intimacy which Hermione had intended in case couples ventured up for more private conversations. Hagrid felt out of place, "Arry, I'm sorry but I only came to wish you 'appy birthday and to share dis with yeh. I'd love to stay and chat but it seems right small in 'ere. Would you perhaps drop by fer a spot o' tea some time?"

Harry understood. He walked Hagrid down and helped clear the way for his guest. As Hagrid prepared to Floo out Harry answered him, "I'll drop by before we leave for Greece. Hermione has us going on another trip." He considered the parchment, "Maybe I need to chat with the Centaurs as well? Can you arrange something?"

"Aye," Hagrid answered as he picked up a pinch of Floo Powder, "A few still ask about yeh. I'll set summat up fer the day yeh drop by." He tossed the powder in the Floo and a green blaze marked his exit, "'Ogwarts Atrum." Harry couldn't help but stare amazed as the half-giant ducked into he oversized mantle and disappeared.

"Not too many floos in all of England large enough for that chap to slip through," remarked an older gentleman form the corner where Hermione's self-serve bar stood. Harry didn't recognise him but he was in no mood for introductions. Instead he went looking for Hermione. He decided he would like a second set of eyes on this mysterious parchment.

When he found her she didn't give him the opportunity to get a word in, "I've been looking all over for you! It's finally here. I've been waiting all day. It shouldn't have been so much trouble..."

"What are you going on about?" Harry asked. She pulled him upstairs by the hand. Up one flight of stairs and then another. Somehow she found Ron in the process as well as Eliza. By the time they reached his flat, the four of them were huffing and puffing. Ron was the one to ask, "Why didn't we just take the lift?"

"Never mind that," chafed Hermione. She took hold of Harry's hand and he could feel the tension, "I wanted to show you your gift in private. Eliza helped me get it in here. Please don't be too angry with me if you don't like it."

Hermione had fretted over the gift from the time she had purchased it. Harry could tell she was holding her breath. Ron was more nonchalant but he obviously knew what it was.

"Well, then let's get on with it," Harry announced as he opened the door. What he found was an owl perched in the far corner of the flat – but it wasn't just any owl.

The other three looked on as Harry walked dumbly to the cage. Hedwig's death had been hard on him. No-one could possibly understand how Hedwig had saved so many times during those holidays he'd been forced to return to Privet Drive. For days at a time she'd been his only companion. Then she was struck down in such a cold fashion that...well...he had been reluctant to buy a new one. It couldn't be so easy to replace her, could it?

Now, though, his heart filled. Carefully he placed his arm in the cage. The owl stepped off her perch and he pulled her close. Immediately she nuzzled up to him and cooed.

Hermione finally knew she had done well, "The shopkeeper and I spoke for some time after you left that day. She made me a very generous offer." She hesitated, "But I couldn't say yes. The shopkeeper had this beautiful white owl but I knew she wasn't right for you. She would have reminded you of Hedwig and there will only be one Hedwig. But this little one here, the two of you took to each other so quickly..."

The little barn owl Harry had fallen in love with in the shop continued to coo as Hermione spoke. She nestled warmly into Harry's shoulder as if they'd been mates forever. Hermione pulled out a few scraps, "I thought you might like to offer her these." Harry accepted them gratefully and offered them to the barn owl. The owl gently ate from Harry's hand. After she ate the last scrap of bread she hooted happily, causing Harry to ask, "What's her name?"

Hermione beamed, "No name. We thought it would be proper for you to name her."

Eliza had been watching with her hands over her mouth. He was holding his emotions in admirably but she knew he was close to breaking down, "Love, why don't we leave you with her for a few." It was obviously a good idea. By the looks of things he didn't even hear her. Eliza signalled the other two and they slipped out quietly. The last words they heard were, "I think I should name you..."

It was a while before Harry saw Hermione again. He was pulled in all directions as the night moved on. He saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for a few. He spoke with the Pavarti twins and a pair of wizards that the two witches had met while visiting India. Neither of the wizards spoke fluent English but they seemed happy enough to meet the famous Harry Potter. George had popped over to him and offered him a box claiming, "You'll love these Harry. Not a soul has seen them but me and _you know who_. We've been developing new pranks and gadgets for the last two months solid. We've had run of the castle with all of the students out."

For the most part he had a terrific birthday. The party wasn't as entertaining as a few year's before but neither was last year's. There was no place to play Quidditch here and he was bound and determined that there would be Quidditch for his next birthday.

The only real down moment was a brief conversation he had with Fleur, "She won't come out of her room, 'Arry. She won't eet. She won't talk. She's eenconsolable. She inseests she's not returning to Beauxbatons."

"Fleur, I didn't mean to hurt her. She's a sweet girl but as I explained to her, it'd feel odd. Even if I wasn't seeing Eliz..."

"Arry, you don't understand. She _**chose**_ you With a Veela that ees important. Even with only some Veela blood we feel theengs differently than 'umans. She ees even more so. Although she ees only a quarter Veela she has mannee of thee attributes of our grandmother. Our mum sometimes claims Gabrielle eenherited all of my Veela blood as well as all of her own."

"But..."

Fleur was flustered. She didn't know how to explain certain things about Veelas using the English language. There just weren't the words, "You saving 'er at the lake. It made both of us pang for you a leetle. Our Veela breeding makes us desire to serve heroism. But eet ees more than that. We are attracted to men who exhibit great eemotion. When you are happy we can feel it like waves of joy passing through our body..."

Harry didn't like where this was going, "But I don't understand why..."

"Arry. I ask you only do one thing for me. Talk to 'er. If you don't I'm afraid she will starve 'erself to death in my own 'ouse. She will not eat or even get out of bed. Will you do this thing for me?"

"Yes," came the reluctant reply.

"And remember. If you reject 'er totallee she will likely 'urt 'erself. Veela are not often turned away. We do not know 'ow to accept rejection.

And so by the time Hermione found him he had forgotten Hagrid and the parchment. He sat at the bottom of the steps on the second landing with his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting firmly on his hands. Hermione sat beside him and listened as he explained his predicament. He felt guilted into the whole thing. If what Fleur said was true, how could he let this young witch waste away simply because he wasn't interested.

"Go speak to her tomorrow," Hermione recommended. "No sense in being too worried until you know how bad things are. You are smart Harry. I imagine that the answer will come to you once you have a chance to see her."

And that was what he did.

The next day he apparated to Shell Cottage as usual. He preferred to visit Dobby's grave before going in. It was a warm sunny afternoon and the birds could be heard chattering away just over the sound of the crashing waves on the nearby cliffs. Ron must have been by recently because the trees looked trimmed and the patches of grass weren't too high. He saw for the first time Winky's shoulder-high shed that Ron had built near Dobby's grave. After a few quiet moments Harry thanked Dobby like he always did. He summoned a handful of lilies and placed them on the plain stone marker that read, _Here Lies Dobby A Free Elf._

Wiping a tear away, Harry began the short walk to the front door. Dobby always made him think of Fred who made him think of Sirius who made him think of Remus who made him think of...well, he'd made it to Dumbledore by the time Winky greeted him at the porch. He never had a chance to knock. A finger over two elven lips announced that Victoire was asleep.

Winky always seemed to know what Harry needed when he arrived. In this case, Gabrielle was already walking out the door though she seemed unhappy that she was doing so.

"Good morning," Harry greeted her. Winky closed the door and they were alone.

"Bonjour," the young witch answered wanly as she sat on the porch steps. She looked frightful. Her blonde hair was tangled and unruly as if she'd just been pulled out of bed. Her eyes were swollen red as if she'd spent the morning crying. Harry wasn't sure but he suspected she was thinner.

Uncertainly, Harry sat beside her. He tried for more than a minute to muster up something to say but nothing would come out.

She took him out of his misery, "I never thought how all those young wizards felt when I told them I wasn't interested. If this is what it feels to be told 'no' then I do not know why anyone would want to fall in love."

"I'm sorry," and Harry genuinely was. "This is your first time to feel like you are in love?"

Gabrielle looked ready to cry again, "I've loved you since the day you pulled me out of the lake. I've always loved you. I've had passing fancies with others but I have always loved you. When word came to Beauxbatons that you and Ginny were together I tried to move on...but I couldn't. Last year when you and Ginny parted ways I spent the term determined that I would come here this holiday and make you fall for me. Then you fell for that...that..." Gabrielle was obviously unhappy but she held herself together, "...lovely young witch. I came here for nothing. I made such a fool of myself."

Crashing waves were all that could be heard for a while. There wasn't anything that Harry could think of to say to make her feel better. He'd never sought after a witch before..except Cho.

"Gabrielle, do you remember that year at the Tournament? I was so nervous back then I can't remember whether you were there for the dance." He thought back to that heart-wrenching time, "There was a witch by the name of Cho Chang that year. I wanted so badly to ask her to the dance. I fancied her so much that I'd stare at her for entire meals from across the Great Hall. When I finally asked her to the dance she gave me this pitiful look and told me that she'd already said yes to Cedric...one of the other Champions."

"I remember him. He was the one...?"

"Yes," Harry frowned. "But the point is that I barely knew Cho any more than what she looked like and that she was a brilliant Seeker. I fell in love with all of these ideas about her that I had put in my head. I made up in my mind what I wanted her to be like."

"And you think I'm doing the same thing?" she asked miserably. "It's not the same. There are things I know about you. I can't explain it but I can feel your desires and aches and wants and needs. You are such a good person, Harry."

"Yes," Harry admitted reluctantly, "But I'm also a miserable arse. I brood and I'm petty at times. I don't talk much." Harry sighed, "The next year I got the opportunity to go out with Cho. We spent the day at Hogsmeade together. All of those things I had made up in my head about her just weren't true. I didn't exactly meet her standards either. There's a chance, a big one, that the same thing would happen to you if you spent time with me. It's likely you'd be sick of me in a week."

"But how will I know?" she nearly shouted. Her eyes burned into him, "I only wanted a chance and you went off and found another witch! You could have just waited another month for me."

"It doesn't work that way," lamented Harry.

"You could at least give me a chance. At least _**you**_ had a chance with Cho. Imagine if you always had to wonder."

"What would you have me do?" Harry was frustrated. "Would you have me go out with every witch that fancies me, Gabrielle? It's no stretch that the two of us are quite similar...being fancied by people who barely know us. Imagine if every bloke that had an interest in _you_ asked _you _to do the same." Harry knew this wasn't the path he wanted to go down. If what Fleur had said about her 'choosing' him was true, she had basically bonded to him emotionally and severing the tie outright would be catastrophic.

"Gabrielle," Harry implored her, "I'm going to ask you to do something that is absolutely unfair. I am going to ask that if you really do love me, as you say you do, that you return to France for your final year at Beauxbatons..." Pausing, he thought about everything they'd said so far. Inspiration overcame him, "There, I want you to let down your guard and actually get to know the wizards there. Any bloke that has thrown his attention at you before? You speak to him and get to know him just like you would ask me to speak to you and get to know you. If after you give all of those blokes a chance you find that one strikes your fancy? As a graduation gift I will send the two of you to any place in the world that you would like to visit."

Gabrielle didn't look one bit impressed at his offer and she was about to provide some very colourful words on the matter but he cut her off, "Don't you look at me like that. Let me finish."

He took her by the hand, "If you do this for me...if you give _**every**_ bloke a chance...every bloke that's secretly longed to win your affections like you've tried so hard to win mine? If you do this and you give every one of these blokes the same opportunity that you expect me to give you? I will wait for you to return next holiday and I will give you a chance. I will keep an open mind."

He wouldn't describe the look on her face as one of shock. Intrigue may have been more like it. He could feel the warmth return around him and she sat up at least an inch taller. The colour returned to her cheeks and for the first time since he sat down it felt like summer.

"There is one more thing," he insisted. "If you come back and if you swear to me you have given all those blokes a proper chance at your heart and if none of them has struck your fancy and ..." he had to think about how he wanted to phrase this, "...if you still want to have a go. You must promise on your magic that if either one of us is not interested after our date that you won't go back into this shell you've been in these past few weeks. You have to promise you will move on...no matter what. There are plenty of blokes in this world besides me. Do you agree?"

She nodded.

"Brilliant. If you agree to those terms then I promise to keep my side of the bargain."

Gabrielle spoke for the first time in what felt like ages, "But what about Eliza? What if we do this and you find you fancy me? It'll break her heart."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, "After all of this you now worry about Eliza's feelings? Love, I honestly hope you find one of those blokes is the one for you. But if you don't, there is still little chance we'll hit it off. And not because I won't fancy you. You will likely run for the door the moment you get to really know me. If it turns out that you and I do hit it off – _**then**_ we can worry about Eliza's feelings."

And that settled it. Harry decided in that moment's time that maybe Ron and Hermione were right. He decided he would wait and propose to Eliza the moment he'd finished that hypothetical date with Gabrielle. Then he could say in his heart he'd chosen his future wife over all of the temptations that a Veela could offer.

* * *

><p>Hagrid had no more information to offer than the parchment provided on Harry's birthday. He was able to show Harry the tree and he had arranged the meeting with the Centaurs. They assured Harry that no centaur would be willing to damage a tree even if a message was of the utmost importance.<p>

The highpoint of his visit with the Centaurs was when young Enat was brought before him. No longer a small philly, she had grown into a beautiful mare. Her mane was as fine as any of her herd and her limp was barely noticed. Harry reminded himself to keep eye contact more than once for the Centaurs did not bother with such foolishness as clothing. All the same, he couldn't be prouder when she introduced Harry to her betrothed and said with pride, "This is the wizard that saved my life."

Harry noticed for the first time that Bane was noticeably grey. The Elder also appeared more feeble. He didn't know what or how to ask about this but the Elder caught on, "Young wizard, won't you walk with me alone for a moment?" When they were out of the hearing of others, the Centaur asked, "Friend, something confuses you?"

"Is Bane all right? He's grown old overnight. I remember when I was younger that he was much younger..." The Elder appeared confused so Harry explained further, "He seemed to just become an adult. That was only ten years ago."

After a few moments of reflection the Elder spoke, "Young wizard, we mark our time by the passing of the moon. The moon disappears but then a few evenings later it returns. It waxes night after night until it grows full. Then it wanes until again it is no more. Like you humans, we refer to this as the New Moon and it is how we mark our time.

It is said that many of your kind live more than a thousand moons. Your great Dumbledore once spent the evening in the forest with us to celebrate what he claimed was his fifteen-hundredth moon. We Centaur live much different...much shorter lives. A healthy stallion may live to see perhaps four hundred moons if he is extremely fortunate. Most will see less than three hundred. Bane had seen nearly seventy moons when you first made his acquaintance. He celebrated his two hundredth not too many moons ago. None too soon he shall likely succeed me as the Elder of the Herd."

Harry was speechless. He'd never considered that the Centaurs lived shorter lives than humans. The Elder was able to anticipate the question on his mind, "Yes, I have lived many moons. If I am so lucky I shall reach my four hundredth when the next frost ends. My instinct tells me that this is unlikely. The chills of the last frost were hard on my bones and I expect the chills of the next will likely be too much."

"So you expect...?"

"Yes, Friend. But do not be sad for me. I have lived a long and fruitful life. I have sired four foals that now have their own foals. One now sits on the Council and if he is fortunate he will eventually succeed bane as Elder of our herd." The Centaur stopped and put his hand on Harry's shoulder, "Do not live your life too carefully. If you do then your time will pass by and you will feel you have accomplished little." The Elder sighed, "But look who I am giving this advice to."

As they made their way back to the other Centaurs the Elder asked, "In the unlikely event that I do see my four hundredth moon would it be too much to ask that you join the herd for the celebration?"

Harry brightened up, "I'd be honoured to."

This caused for a fitting end to his visit with the Centaurs. After goodbyes to Enat, Bane and the others, he made his way toward his next visit.

It wasn't long before Harry sat in Lavender's hut. He had to remind himself that he had gotten in the terrible habit of referring to her as Lavender and he knew that if he called her anything but Hecate he'd never hear the end of it. Only he and Hermione were aware of the true identity of the old crone that had taken residence in the Forbidden Forest. Well, them and a few of the older Professors.

"You should have been here," Hecate gloated, "I scared the little buggers off. A little she-devil and two ruddy little trouble-makers. Just before end of term." Her deformed face was twisted in a grin that made Harry shiver.

"Why were they here?" Harry asked.

"Why does any student go trekking through the Forest at night? I suspect after all the stories they want to be fearless like you. You are larger than life, Mr. Potter. Madeline and her lot still tell the story of how you came barrelling through the forest and saved them from more than a hundred angry Centaurs. Then that little witch goes on about how you struck down some impossibly evil force in the Chamber of Secrets and how it was so terrifying that you wouldn't even let the Ministry take a gander at it."

"No..."

"Oh, yes." Lavender...Hecate, was going on about the whole thing as she carefully stirred her cauldron over the fire. First she'd stir three times clockwise and then five times in the opposite direction. The vapour that came off of the potion was first a smoky blue but now it was more purple. When the vapour transformed to a bright green she returned her attention to Harry, "You may fancy that little witch but she is quite a story teller. She's even gone to recounting stories about your times here that I'd plain forgot about. Each telling becomes more spectacular than the last."

"And how do you hear her stories?" Harry was enjoying looking around the small hut. Quite a bit had changed since his last visit. She had pinned up what looked like sketches of stars on one side. On the other were pinned up notes about what he could only imagine were dreams. Also, there were several combinations of cards sketched in the same manner as the way that she had set up the cards that he had used for his first reading almost two years ago. Each of the diagrams had notes written in a language he was unfamiliar with.

His interest in the sketches were not lost on her. Satisfied that the potion was brewing as it should, she returned to the table that they sat at so often his last term at Hogwarts. "I still have my ways of entering and exiting the school. On occasion I sit in on the classes that Firenze teaches. He needs my assistance from time to time.

"Your assistance?"

"He gets around all right on his own still but I help him when he needs anything sizeable moved," Hecate explained.

Then it hit Harry. Firenze was just as old as Bane. While he wasn't exactly an invalid, Harry imagined it wasn't exactly easy to get up and down those stairs. He probably found it difficult moving anything of size and Hecate could use magic.

Hecate took a sip of her Butterbeer, "Has Hagrid spoke to you about the message burnt into the tree?"

"I was just getting to that," Harry answered as he pulled out the parchment. "What are your thoughts?"

Hecate stole a look at the diagrams on the wall, "I don't exactly know. I've tried to see ahead for you but it's become so cloudy. I believe it may have something to do with this investigation of yours."

Harry's ears perked up, "How do you know...? What do you know?"

"I've seen it. I can see you are worried. A wizard with literally hundreds of faces in a home with many rooms. Witches and wizards visit and they too have many faces. They all swear on their magic that they will share with no-one their reason for being there. There are many rich and powerful wizards there but they do not speak. Just when I think I will see what they are doing it gets cloudy and then they are gone. I do not know why."

"You say you can see in there?" This was the first real lead he'd had since he'd spoken to Robards. Since then everyone he spoke to refused to even acknowledge the house. No amount of gold or coercion convinced anyone to to speak. Now he at least knew why. The ringleader had made them swear on their magic not to speak about it. The question was, just what could Hecate see?

"I told you what I've seen. I knew you'd come asking so I've even tried to read the cards themselves like the charlatans do. I've asked several different questions and the answers are always ambiguous."

"You must be able to tell me something," Harry insisted.

Hecate took Harry's hand in hers. He looked down at the grey withered old hand. It was so unfair to her that she had to be so badly scarred. Yet it was her face that showed pity, "Harry, I've said to you many times that you can make your own choices. There are many paths you may take. One thing I am sure of, though. The specifics are foggy but I can tell you with certainty that you should never step foot into that house."


	19. TP 19 The Secret City

**Chapter 19 – The Secret City**

**Submitted 10 April 2012 **

**A/N: Thanks for your patience. I felt compelled to finish the majority of the Olympian chapters before I submitted the first. I plan to submit the next either this weekend or Monday. I hope you enjoy them. As always, please let me know what you think.**

Mount Olympus was not actually a single mountain but a mass of mountains that counted fifty-two peaks. Not nearly as tall as the Alps, they were still an impressive backdrop to the ruins of the original wizard settlement that had become the epicentre of development of Western Culture. It had been centuries since the great gleaming palace had fallen into ruin. Known as the Pantheon, it served as home to the twelve Tyrants that the Hellene worshipped as the principal Gods. Not quite at the top of Olympus as the stories told, the Pantheon was nestled between two minor peaks, which gave the palace the advantage of breath-taking views both up and down the mountain.

No less than a month ago, Hermione thought that King Pelleus and his wife resided on the western shore of of Greece in the town of Olympia which was nowhere near Mount Olympus. Ancient Olympia was where the Olympics had originated and one of the Seven Great Wonders of the Ancient World had been built. Little had Hermione known, but there were two entirely different Olympias – Ancient Olympia which was now a tourist attraction for Muggles from around the world and Modern Olympia that had been founded during the times of Rome. Modern Olympia was located on Mount Olympus not far from the ruins of the Pantheon. It held the remaining records of the ancient Tyrants.

Hermione had not spoken to Harry in depth about her research into the Necklace since their return from Delphi. He had too many lingering problems of his own to be worried about the day to day frustrations of searching for a necklace. Somehow the young wizard had kept his elves alive and a star-crossed Veela from turning his world on its side. Hermione imagined that if too many more young witches threw themselves at him, as Gabrielle had, Harry might grow a little full of himself. As it was, he did both a wonderful and terrible thing to Eliza. He disclosed to her his agreement with Gabrielle.

Her reaction could have been expected. She panicked. Eliza didn't say anything to Harry. Instead, she recounted the entire story to Hermione along with all of her fears. Fortunately, Hermione was more logical than Eliza, "Do you know the chances of all of those requirements he set out actually falling into place?"

Hermione poured them both a small glass of wine, "Harry is right. Consider. In the unlikely event that _**one**_ of those blokes at Beauxbatons does not take her fancy? She still must win Harry's heart. And who's to say _**she'd**_ be interested in him? Eventually she'll be forced to come to grips with the fact that her wand speaks more than he does. It takes a rather unusual witch to be able to put up with Harry's moodiness and eccentricities."

Hermione sipped her wine, "Assuming she'd be able to put up with him, it is still likely that he would remain faithful to you."

"Monte Carlo is built on the possibility of the highly unlikely," Eliza quipped.

"True," Hermione admitted. "But Harry is happier with you than I have seen him at any time I've known him. Don't blush. He said it himself. Even when Harry was with Ginny he was moping around miserable a good portion of the time. I don't know how you do it but when he goes to that dark place you always seem to bring him back."

That was their last conversation before the trip. Eliza had wanted to come but she and Katie were working leads for an investigation of a smuggling ring based out of a shop on Knockturn Alley. Eliza was afraid the trail may cool off while she was gone.

Harry, on the other hand, returned from Hogwarts and wrote in large print, "_**CLOSED -NO ACTION**_" on his folder holding the notes for his Polyjuice Potion investigation. This thrilled no-one more than Madeline's mum, Auror Mason. No new leads since she'd been made his partner and she was itching to follow a tip of her own that would allow them to take a lead on a strange murder that happened a week ago. His partner was so excited she joyfully volunteered to start the groundwork for the new investigation with a trainee while he was gone.

Now, Hermione and Harry were hiking Mount Olympus with Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander and Hermione was wishing she could have convinced Neville to come along. Luna spent much of the afternoon pointing out herbs and animal life that most English wizards and witches had never seen in person. Earlier in the day the hike had been easy and the sun had been warm. Presently the terrain was rough and the air had become thinner higher up. She imagined she might faint if they didn't stop soon. Fortunately the sun was nearing the horizon and Rolf wanted to make camp so he could search for some of the local animal life.

They could have travelled to Olympia easily if they had visited Delphi first. From Delphi, the Hellene had established their own modes of travel to the more commonly visited wizard villages. Seeing as Delphi and Olympia were the two largest, it was a very simple trip from one to the other. Luna and Rolf had wanted to see the countryside though and the party elected to travel to the closest Muggle village and hike the mountain.

Hermione felt compelled make conversation as they pitched camp, "Did you know there are over 1,700 species of life on the mountain both Muggle and magical?"

Rolf had grown accustomed to Hermione's factual icebreakers that slipped out when she felt uncomfortable with her surroundings. He ignored her as he pulled out his mallet and drove a stake into the ground. He caught Harry watching him curiously as he drove his own stakes with his wand. Rolf preferred to set up camp with his own hands. He knew many more creative ways to use magic and he enjoyed physical labour when in the wilderness.

Rolf cocked his head. It couldn't be, could it? He swore he heard a distant screech that was similar to those he'd been taught during his Magical Creatures training. The Phoenix was declared protected in Greece soon after the last of the known free birds had been gathered from Egypt and sold as familiars nearly a century ago. Heliopolis had been the last known Egyptian town with phoenix roaming free but the French and English wizards had found ways to trap the elusive birds.

They were extremely rare to begin with and since Hogwarts was one of the last known homes of a captive Phoenix, it was all but expected that they were approaching extinction. How this came to be no-one knew. The phoenix was said to be immortal.

Rolf did not want a phoenix for himself but he itched to sketch one in the wild for the book he was writing about magical creatures. Mount Olympus was considered one of the last refuges of the birds but even here they were an extremely unlikely sight – residents of the area could go their entire lives without seeing one. When he heard the screech again he gave up the tent and quickly found his sketch book. The others took up the slack and the tent was finished just as dusk turned into night.

"I hate tents," Harry complained as they sat just outside of the mouth of their temporary home. This one fortunately was stocked with food and comforts. "If I never spend another night in a tent I'd be a better wizard for it."

"I can imagine so," Luna mused dreamily while enjoying the stars. "It must have been difficult being stuck in a tent alone with Hermione for weeks. With Ron and Ginny so far away the temptation must have been unbearable. The errant moment when one walks in on the other half-dressed..." She didn't even bother to catch the eyes of her mates who shared a look of horror, "...Always so close. Your cots always just inches away..."

And there, once again, was the question asked so often of the two of them. Only, to Luna it wasn't even a question. She just threw it out in the open without a second thought to it being an uncomfortable subject.

"I've told you before that nothing ever happened," Hermione insisted.

Harry knew better than to get involved. While Hermione animatedly ranted on why she and Harry could never have happened, he watched a most spectacular meteor shower and wondered if Luna hadn't brought the subject up just to give Hermione something to talk about. Although the sky wasn't as clear as it had been a hundred years ago, the meteors were easily seen as they blazed across the sky.

Rolf didn't return until after the last of the logs was on the fire. Harry had fallen asleep in his chair but was jarred when Luna jumped up to meet her boyfriend with a kiss. Hermione was still bandying on with great passion, "And so, as you can see, Harry and I have always been more like brother and sister. Can you imagine how disgusting that would seem to us?"

Luna was unfazed, "Be that as it may, you _**aren't**_ brother and sister. The first time he accidentally caught you out of your knickers? He'd have had a rather difficult time getting the sight of you out of his head. I mean, Hermione, if I may say so myself, you are rather easy to look at. I wouldn't be surprised if he...Oh, Harry, I didn't see you'd woken up."

Rolf, being much better at reading social situations than Luna, quashed the whole thing, "No more chat about such nonsense." He showed his sketches to the witches, "I didn't get more than a quick gander of the phoenix but it was enough to do this." Rolf caught Harry's look of boredom, "Mate, I saw a Gilded Geckle while sketching the phoenix. If you think your up for it we might be able to track it down and get a look-see."

"Really?" asked Luna excitedly.

"One of the pug ones with the short squat tail," Rolf smiled.

Harry seemed interested, "What does it do?"

"Come on, mate, I'll show you," Rolf answered as he beckoned Harry to come along.

It wasn't long before they tacked the beast down. Rolf whispered, "If it catches on to us then stand perfectly still and I'll draw him away. You don't want his attention, I promise you that."

"Why not?" Harry whispered back...all the while keeping a wary eye on the beast.

A large fireball erupted our of the mouth of the Geckle and torched it's prey. Harry almost fell back in surprise.

"Spits fire, mate. Only when it hunts. But it's not like it breathes fire like a dragon. No, this little bugger spits tar that catches fire as it leaves it's mouth. It hunts Rooting Skrimps." Rolf chuckled at Harry's wide eyed look as another fireball shot out of the waist high beast. He patted Harry on the back, "You must respect an animal that both hunts and cooks it's prey with one breath."

Rolf look at Harry hopefully as if he expected him to laugh at his joke. Finally he moved on, "We are here for two reasons. First, we are here to sketch the Geckle. Then, once he's gone we are going to dig where that Skrimp was. A Rooting Skrimp is like a wild boar that roots for enchanted truffles. The Greeks...don't tell Hermione I called them that..._the Hellene,_ use the truffles to make many of their strength draughts. The truffles are worth a fair amount to any Potion Master."

Harry watched the Geckle eat away at the roasted Skrimp as Rolf sketched away. Both were now quietly crouched and the only thing lighting the Geckle was the moon and the stars. Harry's foot was falling asleep and he tried to move to adjust. He knew they were in trouble the moment he heard a 'snap' from a twig underneath him.

The Geckle turned their way. Rolf's voice grew shrill, "Run!"

"But you said..."

Rolf threw down his sketch book. He grabbed Harry's arm with one hand and pulled his wand out with the other, "Run!"

And they ran. Rolf would turn and cast a spell but never left his stride. He could hear the Geckle charging from behind. Harry lost his footing when Rolf yanked him by the arm and he fell roughly to the ground. Just above them he felt the searing heat of a fireball as it passed just over them and exploded about ten metres beyond. This lit up the countryside all around them.

"_Stupefy! Confundus!"_ shouted Rolf.

Harry heard a squeal. Rolf took a chance and lifted his head prompting Harry to do the same. There, lying on it's side, was a very unhappy Geckle. Rolf swore to himself and cast another spell, _"Petrificus Totalus."_

Harry followed as Rolf retraced their steps. Rolf explained, "I'd have hit him sooner but I didn't want to chance him baking us while I cast a spell. I waited until he shot off a fireball because I knew he'd have to reload, so to speak. I hate hurting the poor thing but it was either him or us. At least we didn't have to put him down."

Harry could tell Rolf was still upset. Finally they reached the sketch book which was thankfully intact. Rolf rooted with a stick near where the Skrimp's body lie and found a object. He explained to Harry, "I thought he might be looking for truffles. There may be more but I don't plan to risk my life finding out."

He then ambled back over to where the Geckle was and levitated him back to the Skrimp, "You might want to head back to the camp that-a-way. This bugger is going to be angry when I release him from this body bind. He may come running."

Harry took the hint and wandered back in the direction Rolf pointed...eventually finding camp.

* * *

><p>Rolf was busy stirring eggs in a skillet over the fire as Hermione finally caught Harry up on her progress. "I should have considered Olympia first," she explained. "That Roman manuscript. Do you remember? The one I read to you and everyone else a few months back? It read that we should '<em>begin at the beginning.'<em> Well, all of this began on Mount Olympus.. This is where Aphrodite lived with her husband. He made the necklace here. Harmonia married her husband here. It all began here Harry."

"I'm happy you were wrong. We had a brilliant time in Delphi. If it weren't for that trip we'd have never met Antiones or his wife Lydia. What a coincidence, there he is..."

It was a guess at first. Harry couldn't have possibly have known that the speck on the horizon was the former King of Hellas. But the speck grew into two specks and then into dots. Eventually, the party could make out two men riding great white winged beasts. From afar, the wings were like those of a giant owl except they glistened white with hints of pinks, violets and blues radiating off what must have been the feathers.

As they landed, Harry waved at his mate on the back of what he could now clearly see was a winged horse. Rolf couldn't help himself but to gush, "I've seen unicorns all around the world but never one with wings. Where in the world did you get this?"

The former king was all smiles. He addressed Harry first, "This must be your friend, Rolf. He is rather enthusiastic."

"Yes," Harry introduced the two, "Antiones, these are my mates Rolf Scamander and Luna Lovegood of England. They are very interested in magical creatures and Mr. Scamander is writing a book about those thought lost throughout the world." Harry turned to Rolf and Luna, "This is Antiones of Delphi. He was king of the Hellene until just a few months ago. He is very interested in seeing that phoenix you found last night, Rolf, if you think he might still be nearby."

"Thank you Harry for sending your owl concerning the phoenix. She is a beauty," remarked Antiones. "As for the unicorn," Antiones now addressed Rolf, "he is more common than you think. They breed them here in Olympia and they are the primary mode of transportation around the mountainside. We must take care that the Citizens don't see but they are a pleasure to ride." He guided Rolf over to the winged horse, "This one belongs to King Pelleus. The king loaned him to me for this very occasion. It is not often we see wild phoenix about. You can pet him for now. If you'd like, later we might take him for a ride as well."

Rolf petted the winged creature and it nudged up to him enthusiastically. Rolf kept a careful eye on the horn so as not to get caught by it. The beast was majestic in the morning sun with a brilliant white coat and mane and its horn was of the finest ivory. It stood roughly sixteen hands tall and its wingspan had been no less than thirty feet. Even now, up close, the wings were clearly made up of white feathers but they showed traces of light violets when they shifted in the sun.

Antiones handed Rolf half an apple and gestured with his head, "He's named Pegasus after the great unicorn of old. Pelleus enjoys his history." Rolf fed the apple to Pegasus who neighed his appreciation. Antiones then allowed his servant to take the unicorns to graze while the rest of the party rejoined the business at hand.

"The chances of you tracking a phoenix your first time out here," Antiones proclaimed, "it's extraordinary." He patted the Rolf on the back, "I've visited this mountainside countless times. I've never seen one. They usually avoid humans."

"I caught a glimpse of it again this morning," Rolf answered. "I'm not sure it's entirely wild." This caught everyone's attention so Rolf explained further, "It seems to fly in large circular patterns with the camp as the primary focus. It's as if it is watching us."

"That doesn't make sense," the king admitted. "Usually a phoenix will bolt if it comes within eye-shot of humans. I guessed we'd have to track it down."

Rolf handed a Muggle eye contraption to the Hellene, "See for yourself." He pointed up in the sky to a peak to the north, "It has its eye on us."

The Helene took a moment to adjust himself to the goggles but soon he let out what Harry could only imagine was a swear word in his native tongue. "Rivius, come see this!" he called out to his servant."

When the servant had a glimpse of the phoenix Antiones smiled, "And there is a real live phoenix! Never in my life..."

Harry wondered to himself. He couldn't see the phoenix. Even as large as it must have been it was much too far away to be seen without the goggles. "Fawkes!" he called out - without thinking. Too late he realised he might spook the phoenix away.

"Oy, what did you have to do that for?" Rolf complained. He got the goggles from the servant and caught a glimpse of the bird, "Oy, it's turning tail." The wizard stuck the goggles in his robes despondently and they got back to cleaning up the camp. They were soon done.

"You can ride back with us if you'd like," Antiones offered. "We'd shuttle you in two at a time. It'd be faster than hiking in."

Rolf shared a look with Luna before answering, "Honestly, Harry, the two of us have no real interest in Olympia itself. We are here for the fauna. This mountain has more magical wildlife living on it than all of England. It'd be a shame to not take advantage. We can meet up here in three days time if you'd like. If you'll be longer then you can send your owl."

"You're sure?" Harry asked.

Luna answered this time, "Don't worry about the two of us. The only reason we visit the city at all is to pick up supplies and visit you and Hermione. We have our own tent and enough supplies for a month. There's a chance we may not even go back with you. Send your owl and if we are done then we'll head back together. Otherwise I may just recommend you head back on your own. Oh, don't look at me like that Hermione. We had a brilliant time with you lot last night. If we don't see you at the end of the week then we'll visit Grimmauld Place soon enough."

And so it was decided. The remainder of the camp gear had been put away and Harry and Hermione were helped onto the unicorns behind their Hellenic hosts. Antiones made a last offer, "Before we go would you like me to take you for a ride, Rolf? Pelleus won't mind so long as I'm at the reins."

"Nay," Rolf answered happily. "I was never one for air travel. I'm quite content feeding him and getting close enough for a good look. It makes me feel good just knowing they still exist."

And with that they made to leave. But not before a screech from above got their attention. There flying low was the phoenix from before. This time it approached and found a large branch to perch. It looked carefully at Harry with its head tilted as if it were deciding whether it remembered him or not.

"Fawkes?" Harry asked much more quietly this time.

The bird screeched an excited acknowledgement. Harry tried to dismount the unicorn but fell on his back. He bounced right up and stepped about twelve paces to the tree where the bird perched. It flew over and landed on his shoulder. Harry looked up at the majestic bird, "Would you like to meet a few of my mates?"

With what he could only guess was the phoenix's permission, he stepped carefully toward Antiones who was still mounted on the unicorn. The Hellene was absolutely silent. Likely he was in shock. It had always been his dream to see a phoenix in person but he'd have never guessed he'd see one so close. Harry introduced him, "Fawkes, this is Antiones, former king of Hellas." Feeling foolish that he was being so formal with a phoenix he continued on, "Aniones, this is Fawkes. He was the companion of the greatest wizard of his time, Dumbledore." At Dumbledore's name the phoenix let out a large 'squawk' and Harry saw a tear fall, "Yes, I miss him too Fawkes."

The former king hazarded to pet the phoenix from atop the unicorn. Thankfully the winged horse did not spook and Fawkes leaned toward the Hellene which caused the Hellene to chuckle as if he again was a young boy. Rolf seemed reluctant to step forward but Luna dragged him over, "He won't bite, silly. Isn't this the whole reason we come out here? To see these beautiful creatures up close?"

Rolf also took on the glow of a young boy when he finally patted the birds wing. Luna explained with her familiar whim, "Fawkes saved Harry years ago. It tore the basilisks eye's out and even healed Harry's wounds with its tears." She petted the phoenix behind the ear.

The phoenix nipped at Luna playfully. Then he groomed himself for a second...pecking at a large feather on his wing. When the feather nearly fell, he caught it with his beak and handed it to Harry. The young wizard was confused, "What's this for?"

The bird again nuzzled up to him before letting out a last 'squawk' and launching from his shoulder. Rocketing up toward the sky, he quickly became no more than a speck and was gone. Harry still had the feather in his hand and a curious look on his face.

"It seems you were left a souvenir," Antiones observed.

Rolf gazed at the feather with envy. Harry could only smile, "Rolf, I can trust you mate. Hold onto this for me until we see you next. I've had my fair share of phoenix feathers already. A few days without it won't hurt."

* * *

><p>The Marble Palace was even grander than that of Delphi. It was no wonder. Before the rise of Rome the most beautiful palace in all of the world had been the Pantheon whose ruins lie on the other side of the mountain. It housed the most well known and connected wizards of the world. Much like Louis IV at Versailles, Zeus had used the Pantheon to keep his most powerful peers close to him and loyal. Every witch and nearly every wizard of ancient Hellas would have lived in the Pantheon if they could have.<p>

The Marble Palace had been built to match the size and beauty of the Pantheon. Given modern comforts, it excelled the original palace in many ways. All the same, times had changed and most Tyrants now preferred to live closer to their hereditary lands. They still enjoyed the visit. The Pantheon had housed twelve of the most famous heroes of all time, after all. Modern Olympia held the artefacts of these great Tyrants and reminded the visitors of their great heritage.

The unicorns landed at the stables near the palace once Antiones and his servant had flown their guests over Olympia few times to get a feel for the breadth of grounds. Once they dismounted, Harry and Hermione made their way to the steps where a formal greeting had been arranged. High above them at the top of the steps awaited the king and queen and their entourage. Harry watched Antiones for guidance. The Delphinian traipsed up the steps and Harry followed with Hermione beside him. If Harry had bothered to count he would have found that there were exactly one hundred steps. Antiones was the only one not winded when they reached the top.

A herald announced their arrival, "Your Highness, the Tyrants Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. They are escorted by your noble servant Antiones." Harry noticed that Antiones bowed his head slightly in reverence to the king as his name was announced. Harry tried to take the kings hand, "Hello, Pelleus. Hermione and I have looked forward to visiting Olympia since we left Delphi."

Queen Medeia pursed her lips. King Pelleus appeared scandalised. Antiones explained with more than a little bit of mirth, "Mr. Potter, the king would prefer his proper title when you speak _to_ him or _of_ him. You may refer to him as 'Your Highness' or 'Your Excellency.'"

Hermione pinched Harry before he could speak his mind. She took on her most gracious demeanour as she curtsied, "Greetings, Your Majesties. Please forgive my mate Harry. He spends much too much time being coddled by the Minister. He forgets at times that stations and titles are important." Harry's scowl was no match for her sidelong glare.

Obviously the king was pacified, "Miss Granger, your respect is much appreciated. Dinner will be served as the sun sets if you will be so kind to join us. Antiones, would you care to show our guests their rooms?"

Antiones was taken aback but quickly recovered, "It would be an honour, Your Majesty."

As they parted, Hermione seemed unsettled. Harry kept an eye on her and sure enough he knew the look. As the threesome strolled the hallways in silence he could almost hear her mind sort through all that had just happened. Meanwhile he couldn't help but notice the artwork. Statues of marble met them at every column and one grand statue became more and more obvious as they approached the end of the hall.

"Is that...?" asked Hermione with a look of wonder.

The ceilings of the hall were very high...but one did not realize just how high until they approached the statue. There at the end of the hall sat a bearded man holding a sceptre of gold in one hand and

a statue of Nike, the goddess of victory, in the other. An eagle made of gold was perched on the sceptre. The throne was impressive all on it's own – like the statue it was fashioned from ivory and gold but it was also tastefully decorated with ebony and many beautiful precious stones."

"The Statue of Zeus?" Antiones couldn't help but stand straight with pride, "Yes, it took some doing but we moved the statue from its original home."

"But," Hermione gasped, "How? It must be a hundred miles between here and where it was built. It must weigh tons. How tall is it?"

Antiones admired the statue, "About twenty six cubits by our standards. I heard one of our students claim it was twelve metres once if that helps." The statue was obviously a point of pride to Antiones, "Yes, the move was a grand endeavour. It was originally built by Phidias in the ancient village of Olympia far to the southwest. It was considered one of the Seven Wonders of the World at the time."

"Why was it moved?" asked Harry.

"Word came from our our spies in Rome many years ago that their emperor, Caligula, wished to behead the statue of Zeus and replace his head with that of the Roman likeness of Jupiter...their cheap imitation of Zeus." The former king grinned, "We beat the Romans to Olympia and we replaced the statue with an imitation. It took much effort but we were motivated. With the help of some very powerful charms and a masterpiece of scaffolding we carried the statue to Mount Olympus on the backs of six elephants."

"But I heard stories of the statue being destroyed..." Hermione marvelled.

"The Romans were embarrassed to admit what really happened. As I said, we replaced the statue with an imitation of stone – it was charmed to meet the Romans. When the Romans approached it, the imitation of Zeus took life and sprung up - nearly taking the ceiling down upon them all. He laughed menacingly as the Romans panicked and he chased them out of the temple."

"Once outside, he charged the Romans soldiers and clubbed those he could reach with his sceptre. The Centurions didn't know what to do and they retreated. It took them a full day and night before they finally had the courage to approach Zeus again. He paced outside the entrance of the temple and taunted them the whole night long.

Antiones shook his head, "I wish I could have been there. A giant statue, ten men tall, taunting the Romans loud enough so that the entire village could hear. It must have been some sight."

"They just left it there?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, no. By morning the Centurions had rallied enough courage to regroup and approach the temple. There were a few hundred of them. He stomped and bashed dozens of them before they'd gathered enough nets around him to secure him."

"Did they ever figure out what your people had done?" asked Harry.

"I don't think so," Antiones mused, "As the story goes, Zeus raised his sceptre and announced, 'Let the Roman fool that wishes to die meet me at the peaks of Olympus!' He then caught fire, burning through his bindings, and launched into the sky beyond the sight of any man." Antiones sighed, "As well as any of them knew, Zeus himself had come to life and done battle only to return to the heavens. The Romans were reluctant for many years to attack us outright after that display. They preferred to pillage our cities one by one under the guise that they were aiding city-states that had requested help. It was a full century before they'd forgotten the confrontation at Olympia and had the courage to take us through conquest."

"In fact," Antiones continued, "the reason this city was built was to house this very statue. That is why it takes such a prominent place in our halls. We decided to name Olympia after the village the statue had come from. Over the years, as the rest of countryside was taken by the Romans, other artefacts, documents and artwork were brought here. It wasn't until the Pantheon was sacked that the city became more than a hiding place for our treasures."

"Why didn't the Romans attack here?" Harry asked.

Antiones gestured for them to continue on to their rooms as he explained, "Olympia is known as the 'Secret City' because its whereabouts is unknown to all but a very few outside of Hellas. Very powerful charms mask the presence of the city from foreigners. You were only made aware of its whereabouts once Lydia and I vouched for you. If you were to foresake our trust then we would be executed. Not even your Minister is privy to Olympia's location and I implore you to keep it to yourself."

Hermione chimed in, "Remember, Harry? I mentioned this morning that I thought that the King and Queen lived much further to the west? I'd always assumed that they'd lived near where the Muggle Olympics were held."

"But why did they want to destroy the statue in the first place?" asked Harry.

Antiones frowned, "They believed that their Council of Twelve Gods, known as _Dei Consentes_, had pushed back the great Carthaginian Hannibal. Seeing as these deified Romans were all obviously copies of the twelve great Tyrants of Olympia, Caligula and the emperors that followed after him decided they should crush the Pantheon and replace all Hellene statues of Gods with Roman likenesses to show their dominance over us."

Antiones shook his head, "When the Romans finally gathered the courage to attack Mount Olympus...It was almost a century after Caligula's reign and our spies no longer held such prominent places in the Roman government. We were taken by surprise not ready for such an awful attack. They attacked at night and slew many of us in our beds. Many Tyrants were killed...many of the known direct line of Zeus and Hera and Athena and the like. To this day there are no known Tyrants that carry on the line of five of the original twelve. Pelleus is actually the eldest in the direct male line of Ares."

"Ares, God of War?" Harry asked.

"Through his son Phobos," Antiones answered, "And he wasn't a God of War. He and Phobos were officers of our armies. As the citizens of the different city states deified our kind...they gave roles to many of them. Some were known as Gods. Some, like Herakles, were named heroes."

They'd already found Hermione's quarters and she was unpacking her things from her bag into a wardrobe. Antiones watched with great wonder as she pulled much larger bags out of her purse. Hermione noticed his interest, "I made one for Harry and for Ron as well. It was particularly useful when we were forced to hide in the wilderness."

"I obviously did not pay enough attention when you packed this morning. I wondered where all of your things had gone. You fit your entire tent in that bag?" the former king asked.

"And more." Hermione returned to her serious self, "If I might trouble you with a question bordering on rude...It is not normal for the king to ask someone with your stature to show us to our rooms, is it?"

"No more normal than for a Hellene male to remain in a lady's quarters as she unpacks her things," admitted Antiones with a frown. "The king is a good man. I believe Harry's familiarity shook him. He is not as confident in his place as a king should be. It makes him petty on occasion." He became quiet, "I should not say this but Pelleus is not the one you should fear. Queen Medeia was angry with the two of you for our embarrassment at the end of the Tournament. She has made it common knowledge that they will help you with your quest but only so far as agreed in their Edict."

Harry frowned, "I'm sorry if I caused you any problems."

"They are good Hellene," Antiones insisted. "They are xenophobes much like our people as a whole. You were a novelty during the Games but Delphi is also by far the most cosmopolitan of our settlements. If you are respectful then you will grow on the king. Otherwise you will be unwelcome."

"Tell me," Hermione asked, "How did they make an entire city invisible? I've heard of making a home or a tent unplottable. I've even seen a city block. Wouldn't an entire city be a tremendous undertaking?"

I'm not rightly sure. Many of the most powerful of our kind had already migrated to Rome to seek their fortunes. A select few saw the decay that begun to eat at Rome that last century or so - beginning with the death of Augustus Caesar and accelerating with Nero. They returned with some of our most important relics. We decided we needed a means of protecting these treasures from the prying eye of the Empire. The most skilled of us at the time, Plutarch, devised a charm that would allow this new home to be unseen, unheard and unplottable. He worried that Alexandria in Egypt would be dismantled if Rome fell and he was determined to save the history of the world. He even had scrolls from the Great Library and from Rome itself copied and sent here. They are housed in a special vault with the artefacts that belong to the original twelve of Olympus themselves."

Antiones could read the look on Hermione's face, "Don't even ask, my dear. I cannot vouch for you to enter such a place. I could have a few months ago but only then with the local magistrate's approval. While the treasures belong to all of Hellas they are considered protected by the city itself. If you wish to see the relics or the scrolls you would require the permission of both King Pelleus and Magistrate Archimander."

Hermione sighed, "Will I have access to any of the records of the past? I may need them to find the necklace."

"Yes," answered Antiones, "We have a library with records and inventories of all the known artefacts and artwork that were either brought back or were taken from our land. The librarian may or may not be helpful."

Harry smiled, "I know how to make sure the librarian will be helpful."


	20. TP 20 Aphrodite the Avenger

**Chapter 20 - Aphrodite the Avenger**

**Submitted: Monday 16 April 2012**

**A/N: This portion of the story is still difficult to write. Hopefully the next chapter will be done later in the week but if not I expect it to be finished no later than next Monday. The chapter is nearly complete but it needs a final hook. These three chapters have taken the same number of man-hours to research and write as would normally be spent on ten chapters. Let me know what you think.**

* * *

><p>Hermione opened the scroll. It was an inventory of all of the known artefacts belonging to the original twelve residents of the Pantheon and their immediate children. Most entries listed only the name of the object and its current location but those unaccounted for included short histries that Hermione imagined were meant to help track the items down. Halfway through the scroll, Hermione found what she was looking for:<p>

_**Hades – Helm – Olympia, Vault**_

_**Hades – Sceptre – Olympia, Vault**_

_**Harmonia, daughter of Aphrodite – Cloak – destroyed**_

_Destroyed during attack on Thebes by Polynices. Witnessed as being worn by Adele of Thebes when she was slain and her body burned._

_**Harmionia, daughter of Aprhodite - Necklace – Rome, Royal Palace **_

_The necklace was gifted by a Hellenic sympathiser to the Roman Empress Scribonia when she was wedded to Augustus, the Emperor of Rome. Scribonia is said to have been most grateful as the necklace brought back her youthful glow. Unfortunately, the sympathiser later claimed the necklace never worked as her husband never truly loved her. This conflicts with a story stating that Augustus once claimed to his wife that his one wish was that a direct descendent would somehow sit on the throne. _

Hermione rubbed her eyes. She had hoped the search would be more cut and dry. If there was a clue at the ruins of the Pantheon they'd eroded away with time. She had searched the entire morning with Harry but the ruins were in worse condition than those at Dephi. Now, as she went through scroll after scroll, she thought back on the morning and wondered if she'd missed maybe a hidden entrance to a basement or something. After half an hour of wishful thinking she shook the nonsense out of her head. She knew the ruins were a dead end.

She began to wonder if the library was a dead end as well. She picked up yet another scroll. She huffed fully expecting it to be as useless as the others. She felt a small surge of excitement when it mentioned that the necklace had been passed down through four generations of Imperial families:

_The Necklace of Harmonia was storied to have passed from Scribonia to her daughter Julia. Julia passed the Necklace to Agrippina the Elder who passed the necklace to Agrippina the Minor. Agrippina the Minor was the mother of Nero. After Nero killed his mother the necklace vanished. The younger Agrippina claimed many times that the necklace was cursed but she refused to take it off because 'it gave her a strange power over men.'_

This still didn't answer where the necklace went after the death of Agrippina. All Hermione knew now was that the Necklace had gone to Rome and had for a time resided in the Roman Palace. She sighed as she noticed the librarian had stacked yet another armful of scrolls beside her. Hermione appreciated the librarian's enthusiasm but she was sure it was mainly due to Harry's announcement of a reward to anyone that provided him or Hermione a direct lead to finding the necklace.

The fresh stack of scrolls only made her head hurt and as the last light of day peeked over the western horizon her eyes began to droop. She almost missed a scroll referring to a statue of Aphrodite that read:

_Life-sized Statue of Aphrodite Cytheria of unknown make or origin including a Latin inscription carved in Marble at the base, **"Aphrodite's Last Great Sacrifice: On Her Shoulders She Carries Her Daughter's Burden and Curse."** On the same marble plaque it was inscribed in Hellenic, **"My Lips Hold a Great Secret. Only He Willing To Sacrifice His Own Desires Should Dare to Seek. All Others Shall Meet a Terrible End."**_

Hermione didn't know what to make of this. On a whim she asked the librarian, "If I wanted to find this statue where would I go?" The librarian looked closely at the scroll. After a moment he advised her, "I shall cross reference with another set of documents to see if this statue is on display or in storage.

She continued to study the other scrolls that had been left for her while the librarian searched for the statue. Nothing even closely resembling the necklace was included in any of the inventories. There were several necklaces but each clearly described a different piece of jewellery. She began to suspect rather strongly that the necklace was never returned from Rome. There was also the possibility that it had continued its journey after Rome fell.

Hermione uttered to herself in frustration, "How insane would it be if it were actually in England? Or even worse? At Hogwarts in some classroom I'd sat for lessons?"

"I'm sorry, what?" the librarian asked her from behind.

"Oy! You gave me a start!"

"My apologies," the librarian offered, "Our curator preferred to show you the statue himself – in case it happened to be a valuable lead in your search of the necklace." The librarian's resentment toward the curator for getting involved was obvious.

The curator was a squat little bloke with thick glasses and more wrinkles than Hermione had ever seen. Unlike most Hellene, he wore a long white robe that reached down to his sandalled feet. Bald, the old bloke even had wrinkles where she guessed he once had hair. He looked just as resentful as the librarian. Hermione knew she wasn't going to get anywhere if they were bickering.

"If the statue helps us find the necklace then Mr. Potter will reward you both. He is very generous," Hermione assured them.

Both of the blokes relaxed a little.

When he spoke the curator sounded like Kreacher with a case of laryngitis, "You wish to see the statue of Aphrodite the Vengeful?"

"Why do you call it 'the Vengeful?'" Hermione asked curiously.

The curator rasped out, "She hides a dagger in her hand. All have been killed who have waked her. Very few will enter her chamber except thrill seekers. Occasionally a fool will announce he will claim his future wife. A large crowd will follow him down."

Hermione was intrigued, "The statue comes to life? How does she do it?"

The curator took a breath, "It is always the same. He kisses her. She comes to life. She whispers something in his ear. He will kiss her again and inevitably she will stab him before returning to stone. It is said most of the wounds should not be mortal but she sucks the life right out of them."

This seemed amazing, "So, she just kisses them and then kills them? Why would a bloke risk death for just a kiss?"

The curator shifted uncomfortably in his sandals, "It is not always just a kiss. In some cases she has committed more...intimate acts." Hermione must not have masked her emotions well because the curator was overcome with a shy smile, "Aphrodite has always been known for her passion and her enjoyment of a well built man. It makes sense that she would sate her desires before taking these men's lives."

Hermione shook the images out of her head, "Is this the only statue that does this?"

"Yes and no," answered the curator after some consideration. "Most of the statues in the palace have something special about them but none of the others come fully to life to my knowledge. Some will transport you to another place. One will speak a riddle that if answered correctly will provide you with a day's luck. One even provides a pail full of sparkling water if you only ask."

"May I see the statue?"

"Of course," wheezed the curator. He addressed the librarian, "We are going to the chambers in the basement just east of the stairs. If we don't return in an hour or so then please send a party." The librarian nodded curtly. It was obvious he still resented that the curator had become the focal point of the search.

The trip to the basement didn't take long. The curator went on about the statue and warned her, "Please understand that no-one wishes to disturb the remains. Bad luck seems to come to those that do."

"Why do you think that is?" Hermione asked. They'd taken the stairs and now their voice echoed.

"No-one knows. Anyone that handled the remains of her victims soon grew ill. The same for anyone that tried to move her. It didn't take long before it was obvious that she did not wish to be disturbed. She seems to like her horrid little home. All the same, there is at least a few fools from every generation that she seems to draw in with her siren song."

Hermione's gut told her the statue held the secret. The curator stopped and gestured for her to go on, "She's just down that hall."

"You aren't coming?"

"She is too much for me. I simply don't have the stomach for it. I've never been comfortable around her."

She got the idea. She summoned her courage and took her first step. Then another. Then another. Eventually she began taking steps a few at a time.

The corridor itself was at least twenty feet long and roughly hewn from stone. The flickering torches and the stale air reminded her of the Chamber of Secrets. Then she remembered another story of Greek origin that was strikingly similar. The stench reminded her of stories of Medusa the Gorgon and how she'd turned her foes to stone with only her gaze. This made Hermione wish she'd brought Harry with her and, without thinking, she she pulled out her wand. That's when she stepped through the passageway and met Aphrodite for the first time.

Her first thought was of how beautiful Aphrodite was. Hermione remembered the story the curator told about how the statue came to life with a kiss. This reminded her of a similar story from Ovid's _**Metamorphoses**_ in which a sculptor named Pygmalion carved a statue from ivory. It, too, came to life with the sculptor's kiss. Thinking back, it was Venus whom the sculptor had prayed to and it occurred during a festival honouring her that he had done it. Of course, Pygmalion's statue didn't come back _as_ Venus. Still, Hermione wondered if somehow the story had some root in reality.

Hermione wondered what type of stone the sculptor had used to carve the statue. It obviously was not ivory. The stone was milky white and if it were any thinner the light would pass through it. Hermione imagined flickering light actually came from her heart..

Her attention moved to the plaque at the bottom that read, _"Aphrodite Ultimum Magna Sacrificium: In Umeris illa fert Fillae Onus et Maledictionem."_ Below that, in Greek, it read just as it had in the scroll, _"My lips hold a great secret..." _Now, it wasn't just a gut feeling. Seeing the words here...Hermione knew in her heart that this statue had once protected the Necklace of Harmonia.

Hermione took in every feature. She felt oddly inadequate. If this was Aphrodite's true likeness then she had been beautiful without peer. Her long hair was out of its braids and hung loose to the small of her back. She was caught in the act of gently brushing it...teasing her audience. Her arms rose alluringly over her shoulders holding a comb in one hand and her hair in the other. This left her in the act of playfully showing off her curves without giving up her modesty. Her hips were shifted to the left as if she had caught her audience peeking at her and she remembered she'd been carved in the nude. The sight was strangely intoxicating.

The only thing not there was the necklace itself. But it belonged there. Hermione was sure of it.

Where had the necklace gone? It looked as if there were marks on her shoulders and on her chest. Hermione took a few steps closer hoping to get a closer look. The only light in the chamber was from candles that burned perpetually from sconce that lined the walls. The candles played tricks on her eyes. Once she thought the statue moved.

She stepped closer..then closer...staring more and more intensely at where the necklace should be. It was warm and moist in the chamber. She could feel herself beginning to sweat. All the time her eyes were locked onto the statue. It seemed the eyes of the statue were now locked on her as well. Hermione remembered the dagger hidden in one of Aphrodite's hands.

The eyes grew harder and harder as they seemed to take life, "What do you think you are doing?"

Hermione jumped but recovered. She put a hand out to see if the statue had indeed come to life. "I asked, what are you doing?"

This time Hermione screamed. Her arms swatted around her as if she were driving away bees or wasps. She almost poked her own eye out with her wand.

"Hermione, calm down! I asked, 'What do you think you are doing?' You shouldn't have come down here alone." It was Harry. Fortunately he had stepped back because she was still flailing around. He pulled her closely to her when he was sure he wouldn't get a mouthful of hand, "It's ok, it's ok." Finally calming her down, he noted, "This place is filthy. You just about stepped on some old bones."

There on the ground, just in front of her, was a tattered cloak filled with what must have been a potential suitor. It wasn't the only one. Hermione had been so interested in the statue that she'd ignored the well picked skeletons strewn in rags that had piled in heaps all around the chamber. Somehow she hadn't stepped on one.

Harry, meanwhile, was eyeing Aphrodite, "What is that, Ivory or marble?"

"I believe it's alabaster." Indeed, that would have explained what looked like imprints or bumps or something or other where the necklace had lied on her shoulders. Ancient alabaster scratched like chalk over time and it could have been scarred by repeated removal of the necklace from Aphrodite's shoulders. If the statue came from Rome, then it had been centuries since she had held the necklace. Hermione wondered if perhaps this was why she was so angry when she was brought to life. Had she originally served as protector of the necklace?

Then the uncertainty returned. If a statue had been dedicated to protect the necklace and an entire society was willing to wash its hands of the piece of jewellery then maybe Dumbledore was wrong. Maybe the necklace was as bad as they thought it was. If it had been gifted to Scribonia, the wife of Augustus, as a wedding gift...things didn't turn out so well for her. Or her daughter. Or any of that family for five generations. The last of the family, Nero, went insane and killed his mother...the last known owner of the necklace. Hermione had the aching feeling that she was going to an awful lot of trouble to make a young witch look pretty again.

But none of the other spells Hermione tried had worked. Harry had the best Muggle surgeons and wizard healers alive look Lavender over. Hermione'd searched every inch of the library at Hogwarts. She'd checked with every witch and wizard that had specialised in glamour charms. The best she could do so far was a charm that only worked two nights of every month. Unless she could convince Lavender that looks aren't everything, this was by far their best hope.

Hermione again admired Aphrodite's statue. She looked so carefree as she stood frozen brushing that long hair. Her features were so delicate. Even carved from stone her skin seemed so soft that Hermione couldn't help but want to touch it. She took a step.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked as he pulled her back. "I was told not to let you touch her."

Hermione flushed, "Sorry Harry. I can't help it."

"What is so important about her? Why are we down here?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered. "She's keeping a secret...but it's too dangerous to have you ask her directly. I get the distinct impression that we will find our answers in Rome."

Harry shook his head as they headed out of the chamber. Sometimes he wished Hermione would be less cryptic.

ZZZZZZZZZ

Hermione recounted all she had learned in the library that day and the reason she had taken the trip to the basement. The curator recounted the stories of dead would-be suitors strewn across the floor and Harry received a well deserved smack on the arm when he asked, "Maybe I _should_ make a go at her. Might be less painful than my last few breakups."

"Don't even joke about that," Hermione admonished him. "Besides, if the statue didn't kill you I'm sure Eliza would."

Harry hadn't thought about Eliza all day. The trip hadn't been as exciting as the first but he was once again caught up in the simple pleasures of the country. That reminded him, "I was told by the King that he will have dinner waiting for you in your room. His wife didn't seem too upset that you missed..."

"How are the two of you getting on? You and the King?"

"Since Antiones left we are getting on well enough. He showed me around the palace. I think you and the king would have been a better pair. He was very interested in showing me his collection of 3,000 year old art. I thought he'd have me beheaded when I mentioned that some of the pottery looked like it'd been painted by children."

"You didn't..." Hermione stifled a laugh.

"Antiones would have agreed. Pelleus and I are just a different. Thankfully Ron didn't come. We'd have all lost our heads if Ron had one look at the nudes."

This got them both laughing. They kept on until half past ten when the librarian stepped in and cleared his throat. Reward or not, this bloke was ready to go home and he'd already given them many more hours than the library was typically open. Harry thoughtfully slipped the bloke a Galleon on the way out and the grey-haired Hellene changed his attitude completely. Hermione watched the Hellene dance away.

"You realise that is a tremendous sum to him...you need to be careful how you go about that."

"Yes, Hermione," Harry answered as they headed back to their rooms. "I won't offend anyone. He helped you quite a bit. He likely saved us an entire day of research by keeping the library open late for you. I'm sure it was more than he gets for an entire month's work. I would have given him more if I didn't think we'd have every bloke on the mountain opening doors for us for the rest of our trip."

"Just checking," answered Hermione in her motherly voice.

"Are you sure there is no more to do here?" Harry asked hopefully.

"None that I know of."

"Well, then let's say we cut out of here tomorrow morning and track down Rolf and Luna?" Harry asked. "Antiones said he'd take us to see the Minoan labyrinth if we could find the time. I know the two of them would enjoy the trip. Antiones offered to let us ride a real life water chariot. We might even see a few of the Sirens of the Deep."

"They're only glorified mermaids with wings."

"If you don't want to come I'm sure Lydia would be happy to lie around the baths with you," Harry suggested. "Besides, Ron has grown quite fond of your 'exotic look,' as he calls it. I should know, he went on and on about it when we got back from our last trip."

"Well..." Hermione was quickly being won over.

"I'll fly my owl Pandora to Luna tonight. I'm sure Pelleus will be happy to be done with us."

And he was.


	21. TP 21 A Well Earned Vacation

**Chapter 21 – A Well Earned Vacation**

**Submitted: 25 April 2012**

"**What do you think?" shouted Antiones over the crashing waves.**

"Brilliant!" Harry shouted back. He closed his eyes and let the mist from the wakes of the Hippocamps cool him off. The giant sea-horses would occasionally toss their great tails about and douse the entire chariot in a fine mist of sea water. Only the sharp bite of Hermione's nails into Harry's arm distracted him from the bliss.

Harry stole a glance at his mate. A sickly shade of green, her nails burrowed deeper and deeper into his skin. Lydia noticed Hermione's distress and pulled a crystal vial out of a small bag. "Only one drop on the tongue," she suggested from her cot at the back of the chariot.

Luna leaned over the edge of the chariot like a small child as she yearned to get as near as possible to the dolphins that happily swam beside chariot. Dolphins and sharks of all kinds were matching their speed and leaping out of the water in joy as they tagged along. "Do they always do this?" Luna asked dreamily.

"Oh yes," answered an enthusiastic Antiones. "Poseidon's chariot has always inspired the creatures of the sea. He was a great lover of the water and he took to the traits his followers bestowed upon him as well as any Tyrant besides perhaps Aphrodite or Dionyses. He was an avid fisherman and he did everything in his power to make sure these waters were well stocked. He had Hephaestus build this great sea chariot because he took his dominion seriously. He even built a great city under the sea."

"Atlantis?" asked Luna as she leaned far over the edge and ran her fingers through the water.

Antiones was impressed, "You've heard of it?"

Hermione, her colour returning quickly, couldn't help herself, "The myths surrounding Atlantis are very popular in England. It's real?"

"Of course. One moment and I will explain." Antiones handed the reins to Rolf, "Take this a moment. Keep the needle between here and here." Rolf watched carefully as Antiones demonstrated. Antiones then settled in next to Luna and Hermione, "Atlantis was originally founded on an island. It wasn't always an underwater city."

"How's that?" asked Hermione.

"Poseidon founded the city on an island near Argos. He used Atlantis as a staging ground for his conquests. He recruited only the most powerful Tyrants to live there promising them a city with no citizens. Soon after Poseidon's death they decided to separate from the known world. They sank the island."

"It is said that eventually they learned to breathe in water. They developed an affinity for sea grasses and some would even farm the bottoms of the sea in the shallower places. There is even a story that the very first mermen and mermaids were actually residents of Atlantis that grew tired of the bubble. Eventually it grew too small for such a thriving civilisation. There is still a small trade between Argos and Atlantis. They offer small amounts of gold from shipwrecks or pearls from the sea in trade for luxuries they cannot cultivate or find on their own underwater."

"That is amazing," Hermione raved.

"What is _amazing_," Rolf cut in, "Is that a chariot this large can go this fast with only four horses pulling it. This chariot is the size of a small boat!"

Antiones admired Rolf's confident hand on the reins, "Poseidon had two chariots made. The one seen in most of our artwork was his battle chariot. It was also pulled by four Hippocamps but it could travel from Corinth to Crete in less than an hour. By the looks of the seas today, I'd estimate our voyage will take closer to two or three."

They hit a wave at an odd angle and salty spray doused them all. Harry tried not to snigger when Hermione wretched at the taste of the water, "I knew you didn't care for heights but you aren't any fonder of the sea, are you?"

"Leave her be," warned Lydia. "Hermione, won't you please come back here with me and enjoy the sun? Not often will you find a lovelier day."

Other than the heat, it _was_ a fantastic morning. The dolphins could be heard whistling and chirping happily to the Hippocamps. The mighty beasts neighed back cheerily as they effortlessly led the chariot with pride. The Hippocamps were large majestic turquoise seahorses with front quarters of a regular horse and fish tails in place of their hindquarters. They were harnessed to the chariot four wide. Harry couldn't help but pull out Hermione's camera and capture a picture of Rolf at the reins. Rolf's head held high and long sandy hair caught in the wind, Harry couldn't help but think this picture would eventually be blown up for a mantle one day.

Harry didn't stop there. Hermione leaped under a towel to avoid being shot in a bikini. "Don't even think about it Harry," she warned. Instead he caught a few candid shots of Luna as she continued to lean over one of the sides of the chariot to run her hand through the water. Her shoulder length blonde hair would have caught in the wind like Rolf's if not for the wreath of laurel that held it fast. She wore a short sleeveless linen tunic that looked more in place at a toga party than on a maiden of Hellas. Already, her shoulders were pink from the sun. She, unlike Hermione, was quite happy to have a few pictures to take home with her.

Soon Luna migrated to the back of the giant chariot with Hermione and Lydia and all three lounged on cots soaking in the sun while chattering away. The blokes were up front immersed in their own conversation. Harry was brushing up on his history, "So, Crete. The place we are heading. It was home to the Minoans? Did Aphrodite come from Crete or was she Mycenaean?"

"It is said that she was from Cyprus," answered Antiones as he continued to watch Rolf who had yet to relinquish the reins. "Cyprus at that time was under the influence of the Minoans."

"But Hephaestus and his family was not from Crete? He was Mycenaean, correct?" Harry was going to get this right.

"It's complicated," Antiones explained. "Once the everyday citizens of Hellas deified the Tyrants they essentially rewrote history. Zeus, Poseidon and Hades were brothers as is told but they were not the sons of Cronus as is written. Cronus was leader of a rival band of Tyrants called the Titans."

"I read a little about that," Harry mused. "Cronus defeated his father Uranus?"

"That is a fallacy as well," answered Antiones. "Cronus and his Titans were no more than a tribe of very powerful bandits and thugs that harassed villages along the northern outskirts of Mesopotamia. Driven from the East by Sargon, Cronus raided the settlements of our land and sacked the cities one by one. They were like locusts...consuming and destroying all they came in contact with."

"Uranus was the last leader of the greatest of the Minoan tribes that lived on the peninsula. The Titans met Uranus at Argos and Cronus made short work of him as he pillaged the last free settlement of our land. What followed were three centuries of chaos when the people built little of enduring value knowing it would soon be destroyed or consumed by these wretched men."

"No-one tried to stop them?" Harry looked decidedly uncomfortable. He wondered if something similar would have happened to England had Voldemort not been stopped. He was nearly sure it would have, actually. He shivered at the thought.

"The Titans were a rather nasty lot." Antiones scowled, "Before Sargon stopped them, they'd ravaged most of modern day Turkey. They forced the warlord Sargon to solicit the help of the Semitic tribes to the west and together they drove Cronus from Asia. The Titans would pillage a city for no reason and then kill the strongest of the men...leaving the weaker men to rebuild. Soon, the villagers would not even try to stop the Titans when they marched in to rob the village of its food."

"How did Zeus get involved?" Harry was never much for history at Hogwarts but this had nothing to do with goblin rebellions. His head was full of men with swords charging one another on the field of battle. He imagined Zeus standing a head taller than the others flinging lightning bolts to and fro.

And Harry's excitement was contagious. The witches had even taken notice. Antiones took a deep breath and thought back on his studies at Olympia as a boy, "No-one knows how the Mycenaeans got got involved. Many suspect it was a matter of time before Cronus made all of Hellas ripe for the plucking. There is a story that a farmer's wife prayed for a saviour when Cronus rode in one day to kill her husband and young boys. She predicted that Cronus would meet a wrath like he'd never seen and would be struck down by lightning from the sky."

"However they arrived, Zeus and his two brothers were powerful warriors," Antiones explained. "But Cronus and his band of Titans were just as fierce. Cronus had the ability to temporarily stop and even manipulate time. He was also immune to the effects of time on himself. He would even brag that he would see danger coming and turn back time so that he could kill his foes after taking them by surprise."

"Then how did Zeus win?" asked Harry.

Antiones couldn't have looked happier to be asked, "Zeus was a most clever man. He allowed Cronus to become a victim of his own arrogance."

"How did they do that?" asked Harry.

"in that Age, men fought almost exclusively with swords. Zeus was not like his brothers. Poseidon and Hades were men of war. They enjoyed the fight up close. Sure, Poseidon had a gift for manipulating the water but he fought with a triton or a sword. Zeus, on the other hand, had a talent for conjuring. He would use his sceptre like a wand he used to cast his...magic..." Antiones made a face like he didn't like the taste of the word "...lightning would shoot from his sceptre or from the clouds." Antiones continued, "The brothers hatched a plan and split apart. Poseidon and Hades brought their tribe to Argos by water and announced publicly their plan to defeat Cronus and his Titans. Meanwhile, Zeus played the part of a meagre private in their colour guard. He was fair with a horn and he fit in fine."

"Hades was a brilliant general. He rallied the Mycenaeans with a promise that when the time came the clouds themselves would fight for them. Poseidon brought a fleet of fifty vessels to land at the shores of Argos...each holding a hundred warriors. Those warriors marched on the walls of Argos. When they could not overcome the walls by land, Poseidon used his talent for manipulating the sea and he crashed a great tsunami onto the city walls by sea. The waves brought the wall down and the men rushed in."

"For three days, Hades and his warriors beat Cronus and his Titans back one house at a time. By the third day, Cronus knew he was beat. He and what men he could save retreated first to Corinth and then finally to a group of mountains that for years had served as a haven for vagabonds and nay-gooders."

"Hades was not the least bit intimidated. He sent his warriors into the mountains in pursuit. Chariots were useless in the mountains but the skies rained arrows. The fitting climax was when Cronus and Hades agreed to fight head to head as champions to end the battle. Hades agreed because he cared for his men and he knew they were taking heavy losses. Cronus also agreed. Knowing he was outnumbered, he felt he had an advantage fighting one on one with his capability to manipulate time."

Harry cut in, "Wait. So they just found a spot and fought it out?"

"It wasn't quite that simple," laughed Antiones. "My people have always taken challenges very seriously. The preparations took a week and both sides worked together to establish the rules. They found a flat spot nestled between two minor peaks that provided enough room for each side to watch. The Mycenaeans sat along the rise of Northern peak and the Titans sat to the South."

Antiones sighed, "I can only imagine what the fight was like. Both Hades and Cronus were powerful men. Hades had a thick jaw and shoulders that could move the mountains themselves. He stood a full head taller than most men of his age. His reputation for being a keeper of the dead came from his propensity to stack bodies around him during battle."

"Cronus was more crafty. Not only could he manipulate time but he'd had years to learn the nature of combat. Three hundred years and he looked no more than twenty. Quick and shifty, he would chatter on while in battle in hopes of distracting his opponent. One never knew what angle he would come from because he would simply disappear and reappear behind you in the time you blinked."

"It must have been some fight," Rolf remarked from the reins.

"You have no idea," Antiones answered.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Cronus found himself with his hands full. Hades brought his sword down with a speed and power unmatched by mortal man. The clangs of bronze meeting bronze rang through the mountains. Hades brought his thick blade down time and again from over his shoulders and Cronus would desperately throw his own blade up to block. After a particularly tiresome exchange Hades and Cronus stood opposite of each other huffing and puffing from exhaustion. "Take a break?" asked Hades between gulps of air. "Two minutes?"

"Agreed," answered Cronus as he stumbled to his second.

Both of the champions' seconds called out for refreshment and skins were brought for them to drink from. Each took a knee and listened to advice on how to approach his opponent. Hades felt guardedly confident. He felt he had the better end of it with his brother Zeus watching from the crowd but he was realistic as well. Cronus was undefeated for a reason.

The action resumed soon enough. Hades came out swinging. This time Cronus was prepared and he began to use his opponent's heavy blows to his advantage. Rather than meet his opponent's blade directly, Cronus began to flick his wrist and drive his opponents sword down even harder to the ground in an attempt to disarm him. This confused Hades at first but a smile eventually crept across his face, "A sneaky bastard, aren't you? It's not wonder you duel so well. I imagine most of your opponents let their guard down thinking they are doing battle with a raw young man."

Hades changed to low sweeping swipes at the Titan's legs having learned that Cronus was nervous defending his lower body. The change in strategy worked. Eventually Hades knew he'd tire out the Titan if he continued with the strategy.

Cronus would not give up easily. It wasn't long before he had timed the Mycenaean's swings and in the middle of one of Hades's more powerful swings he disappeared. In an instant he reappeared behind his larger foe and struck Hades from behind with a thrust to the back, "Take that, barbarian!" Hades felt the sting and fell to a knee.

Thinking his foe was done, Cronus brought his own sword up to strike. Hades made a brilliant move and spun on his knees - swinging at Cronus's sword itself at the hilt. The resulting blow disarmed Cronus with a_"throng!"_ and the Titan was left holding his empty sword arm gingerly.

The Mycenaeans cheered...but only for a moment. Before everyone's eyes, the Titan vanished. Hades was left looking desperately in every direction. His head was on a swivel knowing that the Titan could strike from anywhere.

Hades never saw the Titan alive again. Instead, Hades and everyone near him were thrown to the ground as lightning shot in bursts from the sky. When the smoke cleared a man in white robes stood over the burnt remains of Cronus and declared to the Mycenaeans,_** "I am Zeus, master of thunder and lightning! This Trickster,"**_ Zeus point to the charred remains of Cronus, _**"planned to strike your hero from behind. I have no mercy for those that reap their rewards unjustly!" **_

"_**Titans!"**_ Zeus now faced his former foes, _**"Your King is dead. I encourage you to join my brothers and we shall all build a palace on this very spot that shall have no equal. Together we shall rule from this mountain! Your alternative is to challenge me. If you choose to fight then you shall join Cronus,"**_ Zeus pointed to their former leader still smoking on the ground, _**"and together you may search for a new plane to conquer!"**_

Zeus waited as the Titans conferred quietly. It was not difficult to hear the fear in their voices as they discussed their options. However skilled they were as warriors, none had seen lightning brought to the ground at will. As the voices died down, he asked, _**"Anyone here care to challenge our claim?"**_

There were no challenges.

ZZZZZZZZZZZ

The story was interrupted by giggling from the back of the chariot. Antiones wasn't amused, "Can a man not tell a tale without interruption?"

Hermione couldn't stop her giggling, "I'm rather fond of your story. It's your wife. She observed how worked up you blokes got as the action reached its climax." The young witch blushed, "She said if you keep up like this that the lot of us would be riding home on dolphins as she rav..."

"That'll be enough of that!" Antiones barked. The former king was not easily embarrassed but his wife was not normally one to speak so plainly in front of company.

Again, the witches giggled.

Antiones turned to his mates, "A strong sun and a cask of wine makes for a mouthy wife..."

"...And a disrespectful husband finds he has plenty of time to practise with his sword on his own," checked his wife.

Antiones surrendered with a wince, "What do you say we return to the story?" He took a deep breath, "You might guess at the rest. Zeus became the king of kings. Hades became the ruler of the lands. Poseidon became the ruler of the seas."

"But how did Zeus convince his brothers he should become king of kings?" Harry asked.

"Hades and Poseidon wanted titles and honour," Antiones said with a smile. "But they weren't interested in managing a kingdom. Zeus gladly gave Hades all the mainland and Poseidon all of the islands and seas. While they busied themselves with conquest of their domains, he offered to follow behind and organise the conquered lands. In return, he asked for only two domains for his very own...the sky as a symbolic dominion and Mount Olympus as his seat of power. He somehow understood that while his brothers would have all of the land...he would own the citizens' imaginations."

"So, he was not literally the king over all?" Hermione asked.

"Not at first," Antiones admitted. "Actually, he did better. He built an Empire that would stand for centuries. As his brothers conquered the lands around them he followed behind and secured assurances. Freely, he let the kings have their lands back for only a 'small' tribute of men and gold. He explained to the kings that he and his brothers had no interest in ruling the cities day to day. Zeus even went so far as to tell the kings that they had lost to his brothers in war because they were gods and that as long as they were worshipped as such his brothers would protect them."

Harry interrupted, "The kings believed him?"

"Are you kidding?" Antiones laughed. "They were complicit in the whole lie. They had their scribes make up many of the stories. As Zeus married and had children the tales flooded out. Cities began to claim his children and members of his family as their patron gods. He even named Athena after Athens so they would accept her as the patron God. When they refused, Poseidon stormed the city and placed his own son Theseus on the throne."

Lydia remarked to Hermione, "Our settlement of Delphi adopted Apollo after he helped fight off the dragon known as the Python. Soon a whole subset of our literature was based on the one upsmanship of the cities as they exaggerated whatever act their patron had performed. Soon, each city had its own set of Tyrants that were fighting twelve headed hydra and three headed dogs."

Antiones was growing impatient with the constant interruptions from the witches, "Yes. Well, one day the older brothers realised they'd conquered all of Hellas. There were no more lands they wished for. Everyone was happy. The people now had a common heritage coupled with local autonomy. The kings had Zeus and his family to give them legitimacy. The family of Zeus had respect, honour and unlimited gold. Zeus had become the de facto King of Kings and his empire would live for centuries in the minds and imaginations of even us today. Even now, you must admit, you think of Zeus as this all powerful being of the past. I have not met a single foreigner that doesn't have a vague feeling of respect for our counties heritage and for the name of Zeus."

Rolf nodded agreement, "No arguing that."

Antiones laughed, "What's more, when his brothers retired from warfare, Zeus convinced his brothers and their families to live at the Pantheon. Without their ever realising it, he used _**their**_ treasures to build his own playland - and they happily stayed there as his guests. They probably wouldn't of cared if they had noticed. Remember, these men were warriors...not builders. Because Zeus was careful in crafting the image of the Twelve Gods of the Pantheon, there was little jealousy."

"But this must have taken years," Hermione was caught thinking out loud.

"Zeus lived much longer than the others. When he defeated Cronus he found the Titan's ring held his power over time."

"No-one noticed? They must have eventually figured it out," Harry asked as much as said.

"Not for a long time," Antiones shrugged. "At first even he didn't know what it was. He had initially taken it as a trophy. After a decade or so it dawned on him when his wife Hera remarked that he looked that after ten years he looked the same age as the day she met him. Remember, he was the youngest brother anyway. It's explained in his journals."

"Journals?" asked Hermione. The longing in her voice was lost on no-one.

"They are held in the vault. An abridged copy is used as a text for our Fifth Year History Class. If you ask Lydia nicely she might find you a copy," Antiones teased. "Zeus didn't write often - sometimes not for years at a time. He mentioned how sad it made him to see Hera grow old in front of him. Many of the Myths written about her jealousy over his affairs stem from her resentment that he barely aged those last forty years. Hera was mother to Demeter then Hephaestus then Athena. They were married for more than fifty years. Unfortunately, as she grew older he began to ignore her and she put up with his dalliances."

Harmione chimed in, "Demeter was his daughter? What about Hades kidnapping Persephone and making her his wife? If Demeter..."

Lydia chimed in, "Yes. Persephone was Zeus's grandchild."

Hermione's face screwed up in disgust, "Ewwww..."

"Not one of our better moments as a culture," Antiones admitted. "Demeter wanted Hades killed but Zeus wouldn't have it. Hades needed heirs and he was old. Zeus gave Persephone to him as a gift just as he gave Aphrodite to his son Hephaestus. Besides the ring, his son Hephaestus was the single most important key to his success."

"Why?" Rolf and Harry asked simultaneously.

"Hephaestus was a true genius and perhaps the most talented Tyrant of any Age. Hephaestus built more great relics in his lifetime than any smith before or after. He infused great powers into these objects. A chariot that could fly for Apollo. A helm of invisibility for Hades. Poseidon's triton and chariots. A bow for Eros. I could go on until we reached Crete and still describe more."

"How long did Zeus actually live?" asked Hermione.

"He lived about seven hundred years," Antiones estimated. "It is said that as generation after generation died he eventually lost the will to live. In his journals he wrote often of how he missed Poseidon. In fits of melancholy, he'd take the the ring off for months and years at a time only to meet some young maiden that would make him scramble for his jewels. One day, he simply decided to take off the ring and he never put it back on. He spent those last few years preparing for his death but it did no good. The Mycenaean civilisation collapsed soon after and the Dark Ages began."

Hermione remembered something Harry had asked early on, "You said at the beginning of all of this that it somehow tied into the Minoans and Crete?"

"Would one of you mind rubbing oil onto my back?" Lydia asked the girls. "I wasn't allowed to bring a servant for fear there wouldn't be enough space."

Antiones chose to ignore his wife, "It was Poseidon who conquered the Minoans but not without the help of his son. The place we are visiting today is the labrynth that was built by Daedelus. It was a maze that sprawled beneath the Imperial grounds and it held a great beast."

"The Minotaur?" asked Hermione.

"You've heard of it?" asked Antiones.

His wife Lydia was becoming ever more amused, "Love, I imagine she has heard many of your stories. She's the most well read individual I've ever met."

Hermione blushed, "I have some relearning to do. Much of what was taught to me was wrong, it seems. It seems my teachers based too many of our lessons on Muggle accounts." Hermione noticed Antiones and Harry share a look of exasperation, "But you should continue, Sir."

"Right. Where was I?" Antiones asked himself. "The Minoan King had a son that was half bull and half man. By then, Poseidon was too old to fight this abomination himself. His son and chief lieutenant, Theseus, volunteered."

Harry's attention finally reached its limit. This was not the question he had asked at all. He'd been interested in Aphrodite and that statue. His mind wandered as Antiones told the story of Theseus and the Minotaur. Tomorrow he and Hermione were returning to England. There was plenty to return to. Winky would have her baby soon. Harry'd promised Andromeda he'd visit his godson soon. He'd made no headway on the mystery of how those secrets leaked out of the Cauldron. He knew there'd be a tug of war between Eliza for quality time and his partner, Auror Mason, who would want to hit the road running with their new investigation.

September would be a busy month. Oh...and he couldn't dare forget that he needed to find a proper gift for his mate for her birthday in a few weeks.

**A/N: Not my favourite chapter. I don't say that often. I hope you like it more than me. Let me know if you do. **

**Next chapter we return to England. **


	22. TP 22 Hermione's Birthday

**Chapter 22 – Hermione's Birthday**

**Submitted: Thursday 3 May 2012**

**A/N I like this chapter but I can't wait for the next. I'm so excited about it that I expect to submit it by Sunday or Monday at the latest. I'm also excited because we are finally coming up on a chapter I wrote months ago. For now, let me know what you think of this chapter and keep a look out over the weekend for the next. **

"How is it that my birthdays involve everybody but the Queen," Harry sulked, "but your birthdays always end up intimate affairs with just me and the family?"

"Ruddy evil genius, isn't she?" agreed Ron as he stuffed his mouth with pudding. "Shwee towld me it was cwause...Oy!" Ron rubbed his scalp as Hermione scowled, "Swallow before you speak. You're no longer a Third Year, you know."

Whatever Ron grumbled under his breath earned him a hard look from both his mum and his girlfriend. George didn't even try to mask his amusement, "Harry, your a National Treasure. Isn't any way around a full out knockerfest when it comes to your birthday. You should embrace it, mate."

Molly blew on her tea, "I'm afraid George's right, Dear."

As usual, Eliza sensed words would do nothing and instead she patted his elbow. Molly watched the young witch work her magic on Harry and sighed. She wanted so badly to see Harry and Ginny together but she couldn't help but see how good Eliza was for Harry. Already the young wizard's face was crinkled in a smile over something the witch had whispered in his ear. Seeing that Harry had lost interest in the subject Molly quickly found another, "How was your visit with Teddy, Dear?"

Harry's eyes filled with pride for his godson, "He's as smart as his dad. Andromeda says she has to be careful with her spells. He's already picked up on a few of them and he waddles around reciting the ones he's memorised. He has this stick of his that he flourishes around pretending to cast his spells."

Mr. Weasley sat savouring each bite of his wife's pudding. This didn't keep him from asking the inevitable question, "A stick? Surely Andromeda has bought him a toddler's wand. If not, I'm certain we have a few lying around here he can have..."

Mischief was written all over Eliza's face. In a tone that could only be described as teasing, she explained, "He won't play with his _toy _wands because _he_ insists they aren't _real_ wands. Mrs. Tonks told me that Teddy made her walk the _**entire**_ property with him in search for '_**a wand like Uncle Arry's**__.' _"Eliza paused as the table got a good laugh,_"_He won't part with it for anything. Mrs. Tonks said he even takes it to bed to chase off the boggarts."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle, "You say he's already memorising spells? He's only what? Two?"

"You wouldn't think it," Harry raved. "The boy speaks like a four-year old. I read him a story for bed before we left and I swear he was mouthing off the words with me."

Molly had a far-off look, "He sounds sweet." Mr. Weasley must have recognised the look because he shook his head, "Don't even think about it, Love. We already have a grandchild and I couldn't possibly..." The glare that met his protest was enough to stop him cold.

The baby bug released Molly quickly enough, "How about you, Hermione? Have you and Harry found any clues for this mysterious necklace you are looking for? Ron said you spent four whole days in Greece."

"I think so." Hermione wasn't sure what she should and shouldn't share considering their oath of secrecy concerning Olympia, "We plan to visit Rome but first I am doing some research. If it takes as long as it did for Greece then it will perhaps be June of next year before we are ready."

"Did you see any sights?" Arthur asked before taking another bite. He really was a lucky bloke. Out of all the witches he could have married, he proposed to the best cook in all of England.

"They have an amazing collection of statues. On our last day we were given a tour of the labyrinth under Knossos where the Minotaur was killed. Mostly it was just dark and damp but we travelled there on Poseidon's _**actual **_water chariot. You should have seen all of the marine life that followed us."

"How about you, Harry? Anything happen to you."

This was starting to feel a little more like an interrogation to Harry. He knew they were just trying to make conversation but being back home drew out some of his old instincts. Through tight lips he answered, "Not much."

Ron was a lot more forthcoming, "Mate, you've got to tell them about Fawkes. And that fire breathing creature thing. Bugger nearly burnt him to a crisp, mum."

While Ron and Hermione took turns telling about the unicorn and the phoenix and the feather, Harry thought to himself about his visit to Ollivander and their conversation about uses for the feather. He thought back to his trip to Diagon Alley a few days before.

Somehow, the shop was in worse shape than when Harry had visited last. The stale air and dusty shelves made him worry for the old wizard. Well, that and the pronounced limp that Ollivander sported as he fought his way to the counter. Ollivander caught Harry's troubled eye and he reassured him, "It'll pass. A bit of gout, I'm afraid. Doesn't help that my apprentice returned to school for her final year. She'll be back for good in June."

"What is that?" Ollivander asked with a certain amount of awe when Harry placed it on the counter. "is this a...?"

"Phoenix feather," Harry said with a certain amount of curiosity of his own. "Fawkes gave it to me recently. A wing feather I believe. The problem is, I don't know why he gave it to me or what it is for."

The wandsmith picked up the feather and looked at it with a great amount of admiration, "It's much too big for a wand. The feather that was used for your wand was a mere tenth the size of this specimen. But..." Ollivander took on the look of a bloke ready to make a deal, "...if you are looking to sell I'd be willing to give you a thousand Galleons for it."

"A thousand Galleons?" Harry's eyes went wide. Sure, he'd paid more than that for his wand, his broomstick and a few other items over the years. Strangely, to now, this was the most gold he'd ever been offered for any object he owned. He also got the vague sense that the feather was worth well more than was being offered, "But why would you pay so much for a feather you can't use in a wand?"

"My boy," the wandsmith said without looking up from the feather, "We shopsmiths carry our own trade for valuable objects. If I can't use it then there is a potion master or a broom master or a weapon smith that can. I'm offering the price merely on speculation. It could be worth more or less. What do you say I give you five thousand?"

Harry shook his head.

"How much?" Ollivander's look of anticipation made Harry wonder just how high the wand maker would go. It also made him wonder how much gold the old wizard had. Thinking back on how much Harry had paid for his last wand, he imagined it was a respectable sum.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't think there is a price. It was a personal gift and I get the feeling there was a reason for it."

"Yes," Ollivander reluctantly agreed, "A wise decision. It is unique. Phoenix do not often offer their feathers up easily. Not without a request from their owner anyhow. Even small tail feathers offer great power. There is no telling what you could do with a feather such as this."

The wandsmith bowed with respect as he kindly returned the feather, "If you have no more need of my services at this time then I shall bid you good day. An old man must rest his weary bones. All the same, I would care to hear if you find any uses for your gift there. Let me know."

"Certainly," Harry agreed as he made for the door. As his hand reached for the handle he looked back, "Just out of curiosity, how much would you have gone up to if I'd been willing to sell?"

The wand maker rubbed his chin for a moment. "It's hard to say. As unique as it is? The fact it was given to you by what I imagine is a phoenix with no master? At the risk of sounding greedy by my low-ball offer I'd say about half a million Galleons." When Harry gaped at him in disbelief, he explained, "Even assuming there is no real use for the feather, a collector somewhere would offer me double that."

Even now, sitting at the Weasley's table over dinner Harry found the sum staggering. What was even more staggering is that Harry would have thought that ten thousand was fair. Harry wondered how often Ollivander made such spectacular returns on his investments. Imagine, selling something for a million Galleons that you had bought days before for only one thousand. He decided he'd have to be careful if he ever chose to sell rare items on Diagon Alley.

As Harry sat staring into space and putting the last touches to his second helping of pudding, Hermione was still answering questions for the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley was always interested in Ron's girlfriend, "Ron tells me you visited your mum and dad for a few days after you returned from Greece?"

Hermione sniggered. Ron complained was more like it. With his new responsibilities he was at the Ministry nearly every waking hour. Ewan worked him hard and even when Ron had free time Ewan pushed him to continue training. When Hermione mentioned she was visiting mum in Australia for a week he complained to no end. She ended his rant with, "You wouldn't of noticed if I hadn't said anything. You get in every night after I've fallen asleep. The only time we speak is here at the Ministry for lunch."

Now that she'd returned all was better. Well sort of. She received some disturbing news during her visit.

Molly brought Hermione out of her thoughts, "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Mum." Hermione's eyes told a different story.

Molly ignored the lie, "Then how your mum and dad? Did you do anything interesting while you were there?"

All eyes were now on her. Even Harry had returned to the world of the living. She wondered if she should tell them. She wasn't sure how she felt about the whole thing herself, "Mum's going to have a baby."

With a round of "Cheers!" and "Congratulations!" and the sudden appearance of Butterbeers for all, her adopted family seemed much more excited than she was. Hermione wanted to be happy for her mum and dad but it seemed to be one more thing that wedged between her and the Grangers.

That's who they were now. They were the Grangers and she was Hermione. Sure they knew that they had raised her because she had told them. Knowing could never replace feeling, though. They tried so much and so hard to love her but in the end she could sense that she was little more than a stranger. Every bit of her wished that they could just remember a little bit about her so that they could feel at least an ounce of the same love that she felt for them. She yearned for her mother to brush her hair like when she was younger. She missed terribly how her dad would read stories to her at night as a child...like Harry now did with Teddy.

This brought back a question that had so far gone unanswered. Hermione decided that tonight was the night she needed to know. When dinner was over and the table was cleared she whispered to Harry, "We need to talk."

"Tonight, at home," he offered.

That was all they could get out before the Weasley's had sucked them back in. It wasn't long before Victoire was resting on Harry's shoulder and Fleur sat next to him observing, "Leetle Victoire loves 'er 'Arry. She doesn't sleep so well for anyone else."

"I'm sure that's not true," Harry protested. "She was just fine when she was with her father."

"Oh, 'Arry..." Fleur convinced Molly and the other witches to come take a look, "You do not see what I see. Seence she was a leetle babee she has always rested on your shoulder with a smile." She pointed for the witches to see. In fact, the little girl, now sixteen months old, wore a content smile and even sighed on cue. Hermione embarrassed Harry even more by pointing out to the other witches, "I've rested on that shoulder before. I must admit, it's one comfortable shoulder." Eliza seconded the motion with a hearty nod.

"Enough about my shoulder," Harry groused. "How is Winky doing, Fleur?"

"Weenky ees fine, 'Arry. 'Ermionee was able to find an elf that will 'elp 'er deleever thee babee. Shee grows tired so eesily now. Wee are learniging to knit so that she stays beezy and I have forbade her from apparating but it might 'elp if you were to do the same."

"I can do that," agreed Harry.

It wasn't long before Harry had relinquished Victoire to Mrs. Weasley and the wizards were sitting outside while the witches gossiped inside. George was busy recounting how business fared in his shops, "Salem has them all beat. Yanks can't spend their money fast enough. How about you, dad? How is your Department?"

"You know how it is, son. Holiday is usually when we see the most action. Young wizards playing pranks on Muggles, usually. When Term begins it slows down." Arthur leaned back in his chair, "Of course, last week we had a Muggle chased out of his garden by a charmed army of snap dragons. The bloke had chased a cheeky little wizard off his lawn just before holiday ended and the little prankster must have planted them before he left for Hogwarts."

"What could a snap dragon do?" asked George. "Last I heard, they don't look like dragons at all.

"These were charmed to breathe fire," Arthur explained with a wry smile. "They were more like an air wing than an army. They used their leaves to fly. Chased the poor bloke into the house. Then the real fun started and the little buggers caught the house on fire. Before it was all done, we were forced to order memory charms for half of Liverpool." Ron and George cracked up but Harry was busy watching the stars. He was wondering what the Centaurs might be looking at now. Better yet, what kind of future did Lavender hold in her cards for him?"

* * *

><p>Once Eliza fell asleep, Harry came down to the sitting room and waited for Hermione. He knew Hermione wasn't quite right and he felt it was a terrible shame considering it was her birthday. Harry's feet were propped up on an ottoman as he sat in one of his overstuffed chairs with a Butterbeer and listened to the evening's news on the Wizard Wide Network. He'd hoped to get the afternoon's Quidditch scores as Holyhead had played earlier in the evening. The Weasley's wisely refused to have the game on that night as it would have only been a distraction.<p>

_In Quidditch news, Puddlemore decimated the Cannons 290 to 40 to secure second place in the Championship Division after only the third week of Competitive Play. How the Cannons scored enough to make it to the Championship Division no-one knows. There are some that claim that if Chudley were to pick up a proper Keeper then they might eventually make a run for the Cup but for now the Cannons will be happy to be mentioned with the true contenders in their division. _

_Holyhead made short work of the Tornadoes as well. Harpy Chasers attacked the Tornado hoops with reckless abandon until their fiery Seeker took mercy on her hapless opponent and snatched the snitch out of the sky as if she knew where it had been hiding the whole time. There is a consensus that the Harpies will win not one but multiple Cups if they continue to improve at their present pace. Their roster is filled with young talent. Only Gwenog Jones, the All-World Holyhead Beater, has seen more than three years of professional play. When asked about the clubs youth after the match, Miss Jones had this to say..._

"Sneaking in some Quidditch coverage while Liza sleeps?" Harry jerked his head up at the sound of Hermione's voice. The Butterbeers had left him heavy lidded and he'd fallen into those earliest stages of sleep.

"I was just waiting for you. Grab a drink and have a seat." As Hermione made her way to the bar Harry shook the sleep out of his head. "Tea service," he heard her request to the enchanted bar she had fashioned not too many months before.

Harry watched as invisible hands prepared the tea. Sugar and cream joined a small cup of honey just as the pot of tea whistled that it was ready. Hermione took no time to levitate the large service to a nearby table and she sat in the chair adjacent. She served herself a small cup and took a sip, "Passable...but not nearly as good as Kreacher's," she admitted.

Harry continued to enjoy his Butterbeer, "That was some news today about your parents."

Hermione only nodded.

"You didn't seem too pleased."

This time Hermione shook her head.

"You're worried they are going to replace you and what little love they have for you will disappear when the baby is born."

Her eyes were glassy and she bit her lip nervously. Harry imagined she wanted him to dispel this thought from her head and treat it like the rubbish it was. He pulled off his glasses and began to polish the lenses, "You know, after all this time you'd think I'd have a healer look at my eyes. It couldn't be too difficult."

"Why don't you?" asked Hermione.

"Mmm, I don't know," Harry checked to see if the glasses were clear, "Sometimes I think they remind me of my dad. I could tell my mum saw some of him in me when we spoke. Part of me thought it was the glasses. She and I shared so little time together but I could see it."

Hermione, still misty eyed, understood.

"I know why you asked to speak to me tonight, Hermione. You want to know what was so terrible last year that I had your mum's memory altered again."

Again, biting her lip, Hermione nodded her head fervidly. Harry looked at her appraisingly and wondered. Her heart was already fragile. He couldn't bear to see the pain in her eyes but he knew she'd hurt either way. He considered lying but he knew better. He'd never cared for the lies he been served to spare his feelings and he wasn't going to treat her to the same nonsense.

"Your mum and dad. They loved you so much. But, when you were born, they became such careful people. I don't know if your mum ever told you but your dad was a free spirit. When they met he was in a band and he liked to surf. They'd met at university and your father was so smart and talented with his hands. His parents wanted him to become a surgeon but he couldn't make himself be so serious. Instead he studied to be a dentist because he felt it was less work. Your mum said you got your smarts from him."

Hermione poured another cup of tea. Harry took a sip of his Butterbeer, "Your mum had to revise like mad to keep up. She wasn't daft but she wasn't a natural with the material like your father was. She said you got your work ethic and your persistence from her."

"My mum always said I got the best of both of them," Hermione reminisced.

"Your mum and dad planned to wait on children. They were going to see the world. He wanted to go to Australia and take up surfing while he built up a small practise in dentistry. They loved each other fiercely so when your mum came to him crying one night that she was pregnant...he decided that his dreams were unimportant and that they'd start their practise here on the islands. Your mum said he was so talented that they'd built a long client list in no time and that you never went for naught."

Hermione could already feel where this was going. Her stomach turned over as if she were back on that blasted chariot.

"You and your mum were the love of your father's life. But, when you found out you were a witch and you headed off for your first year at Hogwarts, your parents began to argue. Your father had changed everything about himself. As much as he loved you and your mum he began to wonder why he had given up everything. He began to ask his wife why they didn't just up and move to Australia now that much of the time you weren't home anyway." Harry paused, "Oh, Hermione, don't do that."

Her eyes were firmly on the floors and tears had already welled up in her eyes.

A loud clank could be heard as Harry swished his bottle into a bin a few feet away. He picked himself up out of his comfortable chair and he sat next to his best mate, "It's not that he didn't love you. He just didn't see the use in being in miserable old Wales if he could be surfing in Australia while you were sitting lessons hundreds of miles away. Of course, your mum didn't see it that way. By our third year he was sleeping in the extra room when you weren't home."

Hermione's voice was shrill, "So they lied all that time? They pretended to love each other when I came home to visit?"

"No. That's why you and Ron never noticed." Harry sighed, "Your parents loved each other the whole time. You always brought out the best in them. When you were home they felt like a family."

"So why didn't they ask me to stay home? I could have studied there." Tears were now dripping off her cheeks in a steady stream.

Harry put his arm around his mate, "Do you remember what you were like back then? You were as passionate about Hogwarts as your father was about Australia. Your life was _**here**_ with me and Ron. It wasn't with your parents. And they knew it."

"But..."

"Your dad asked your mum for a divorce. Just before you returned for our final holiday. They were going to work it out while you were at school before Christmas and that would be the last time they were together. They were going to tell you when you returned home from your NEWTS."

Hermione momentarily forgot that Harry was Harry and she punched him as hard as she could in the arm, "You are lying! He'd never do such a thing!"

"That's why your mum was so upset when the memories came back. They'd been so happy in Australia. It had been like they'd always dreamed. They were so close and so in love..."

"No!" Hermione was still hitting him.

"The only thing missing was the little girl they never had. They planned to have one after they settled down."

"NO!" Hermione had run out of energy and now she was just leaning on his shoulder sobbing.

"They were happy but they were missing the one important part of their life. You."

She let out a deep moan. It hurt him terribly to be the one to have to tell her but Harry knew she needed to hear this. He was afraid otherwise she might try to bring back their memories and she'd find out on her own.

"Hermione, didn't you ever wonder why you, a Sixth Year, was able to modify their memories so easily? Both of them wanted to forget all that had happened. They were two very unhappy people. They loved you dearly...that I promise you. I looked myself. She begged me to when she found out I could. She wanted me to know _everything_ because she knew one day you'd _need_ to know."

"So now they are just going to replace me?" Hermione had gone instantly from sad to angry. It always amazed Harry how fast a witch's emotions could change.

"No!" answered Harry. "Well, yes. In a way."

"That is so bloody unfair!" she shouted. A hand shot up to her mouth. Hermione was not known for cursing.

"No. It's not," answered Harry. "And your mum knew that. But she didn't know what else to do. Think about how much you love Ron. That's how much she loves your father. And I promise you that your father loves you just as much. But all that pent up guilt from the past? She was afraid that if his memories were restored that your father would never be able to forgive himself and they'd be back on the same path. Your mum was afraid that you'd see they weren't perfect and that if they returned to England that they'd just make you miserable for their trouble."

"That's her just rationalising. She did what was easiest for her. What a..."

Hermione was interrupted by Harry who stood up and faced her, "She's such a what? What would returning have accomplished, Hermione? Your parents raised you into a brilliant witch. They did everything they could do considering they were just out of university when your mum became pregnant. Just for you they pretended every holiday that all was well. You were their life. They did what they did for the greater good but in the process they lost part of themselves. Can you fault your mum for wanting her husband back?"

"But..."

"Don't you 'but' me," Harry said sternly. He looked as severe as McGonagall ever had, Hermione imagined. "Look at me. I didn't tell you about this sooner because I knew how you'd feel. You already felt guilty enough for altering their memories in the first place. But I know you. Above all, you'd want your mum and dad happy."

Hermione was silent.

"You can't have it both ways Hermione. You can either have your parents remember you and love you but hate each other for all of the mistakes they've made...or," Harry had to say this carefully, "your mum and dad can love each other with unmatched passion and be the carefree couple they've always wanted to be with the side effect being that the only memory of their love for you resides in your own head."

Moments passed. "It's not fair," whispered a defeated Hermione. "But you know all about 'not fair,' don't you?"

This time it was Harry's turn to answer with a nod. He sat back down next to his mate and poured her another cup of tea. She took it thankfully and sipped it carefully. The liquid did nothing to warm her heart but the warmth took some of the numbness away. That's how she felt. Numb. Somewhere deep in her soul she knew all along this was the reason her parents had not returned. There were no more bogeymen out there...she'd made sure of that.

"Hermione, this is a lot to take in. If I'd have thought there was a better way I'd have done it. If you knew how difficult it was..." Harry's voice trailed off.

"...But you've always done the hard things," Hermione answered to herself more than to him. Tears again streamed down her cheeks, "They're going to have a baby, Harry. They are going to have a baby and then what am I going to be?"

"You are going to be their daughter. Just because they don't remember all of those wonderful moments doesn't mean that you don't. And just because they don't remember the past doesn't mean you won't be able to make more memories. When you have your own child you will make your mum a grandmother."

"How do I know she'll care?" Hermione frowned, "Now that she's all carefree and reckless? I'll hand the baby off to her and the first time I turn my head she'll be trying to grab your bum again."

Harry blushed, "I must admit, she and your dad became much more...liberal...when you gave them a blank slate to work with." Harry took a careful look at his mate, "Are you going to be ok?"

"No. Not for a while."

At least she was being honest, "Why don't you speak with Mrs. Weasley about it. Perhaps she can offer a mum's perspective."

"What would I tell her?"

"She considers you a daughter already," Harry reminded Hermione. "I don't know how long it'll take Ron to propose but if he doesn't do it soon then she'll likely do it for him."

Hermione slapped him on the arm playfully. A weak smile returned to her face, "You leave Ron alone. It took him three years just to ask me out."

"Three years?" Harry laughed. "He fancied you our Second Year. Why do you think he hated Lockhart so much? And the only reason he asked you out was because _**you**_ kissed _**him**_." Once he got a true smile out of his mate Harry became more serious. He took her hand, "I can't speak for anyone else. I don't know what will happen between you and your parents or anyone else but I'll promise you this. I'll always be there for you...no matter what."

"I know Harry," she said, hugging him tight. As she closed her eyes she saw a flash...a hint...that sooner, rather than later, her life would be in Harry's hands. She blinked, confused at the vision of devastation that had come and gone so quickly. She had to think.

"Harry, will you walk me up to my room? I'm ready for bed."


	23. TP 23 Nightmare

**Chapter 23 – Nightmare**

**Submitted: Monday 7 May 2012**

**A/N: It is coming soon. The chapter that I have based this entire series upon.**

The residents of 12 Grimmauld Place learned quickly that days could sometimes pass months at a time once the tradition of school was replaced by the regimen of work. As Hermione used her studies at University and her work at the Ministry to drown her sorrow, Harry and Ron worked on their respective investigations. All three would return home weary and in little mood for idle chatter most evenings.

At least Hermione was enjoying her lessons in nuclear physics. Inspired by Dumbledore's notes she began to consider ways to alter objects on a subatomic level. She began writing a proposal for an experiment that involved using magic to create a controlled fusion reaction. While her professors at University wouldn't be able to guide her in this endeavour, she planned to present the proposal to Professor McGonagall and ask her for help.

She and Harry also returned to Dumbledore's notes for a spell that worked like Shacklebolt's wind blast charm but on a much grander scale. It reminded Harry of Dumbledore's use of Fiend Fyre in the water caverns when he struck down the Inferni but it used the raw power of water and wind. They'd put the notes down for months after a mishap in May near Bracknell in Berkshire. They'd made a few goes at it when one of Hermione's charms went wildly out of control and the resulting storm dropped nearly three inches of rain in the space of an hour. Hail the size of golfballs pelted them angrily as they ran for cover.

But, by October they needed a distraction so Harry recommended they find a more secluded area and try again. They spent weekend mornings on an Island in the North Sea and by November they could summon gusts of wind and rain of hurricane-like proportions that they could both control and focus on small spaces.

Harry never felt so powerful as when with a "Crack!" he guided lightning from the clouds to a tree only feet away. "Just like Zeus and Cronos," Hermione observed. "Show me how!" Again and again she copied Harry's wand motion and concentrated until finally a white flash blinded her and a thunderous 'Crack!' deafened them both. Her only regret was that a young tree was now reduced to a charred wreck.

Ron rarely joined them in their experiments _or_ their studies. He was still as tight lipped as ever about his team's investigation. He'd leave every morning as the sun rose and return hours after the sun set. They began to wonder what, in a time of unparalleled peace, would be so important that Ewan and Ron would think was so important that they'd often work weekends.

Other than her research and her studies, little could cheer her up. Hermione could only think of her mum and dad and this made her unfit for company. Crowds for dinner dwindled as Hermione was in little mood to entertain. Eliza soon had Harry to herself.

Well, maybe 'to herself' was putting it too strongly. Harry's partner, Marianne Mason, was allotted a good portion of Harry's time and she wanted more. The research that Auror Mason had done while Harry was in Greece had allowed the two of them to solve the murder in Knockturn Alley rather quickly once he returned. He made short work of making the murderer confess to the crime with little more than a scowl and the flash of his scar when he brushed back his hair angrily. Marianne had caught on to the suspect's fear and took advantage, "That's right. _The_ Harry Potter. You know what he did to the last bloke that made him angry, don't you?" When the interrogation was over, a fellow Auror who'd observed threw in a jibe, "Nice work. Aside from the fact that you sounded like a poorly written detective novel."

Soon, Marianne and Eliza found themselves competing in a subtle game of tug of war. As September turned to October the two witches would whisper in Harry's ear that they needed more of him. Auror Mason only wanted the portion of Harry that allowed her to solve cases. Eliza wanted him to herself all day - every day if she could. She kept his social calendar for him and remind him every morning that they needed to meet her mum or dad for a dinner...or the Minister for lunch...or the Weasley's for Molly's birthday – don't think that didn't score her points with Molly.

Soon, Eliza was getting the better of Marianne in this so-called tug of war. After a few weeks of Harry arriving late, Marianne began to complain that if the Ministry was to pay Harry a full day's wage then he should work a full day's work. Imagine her embarrassment when she stormed into the Head Auror's office one November afternoon, "He's still not in."

"What would you have me do Mrs. Mason?" Robards asked with a hopeless look on his face.

"I know he's mates with the Minister but can't you dock his pay or _something_ to get his attention?" she asked. Exasperation turned to anger when the Head Auror broke into laughter. Robards had had an unusually stressful week and despite the blow to Marianne's confidence this was the comic relief he needed. Leaning back in his executive chair he laughed and laughed until finally he lost his balance and nearly fell backward onto the ground. He actually forced her to crack a smile when he waved his arms an legs in panic trying to steady himself. Sitting up straight and out of breath, he reassumed the dignity that his office required. Carefully, he straightened his robes and pretended nothing had happened. He still couldn't keep from smiling when he broke the news, "Auror Mason, even if I wanted to, I couldn't dock your partner a solitary knut. It's not in my power."

Auror Mason originally had no intention of asking about wages. She simply felt slighted that Harry didn't have the decency to treat her time with the same respect that she did his. All the same, now the line was in the sand, "You are Head Auror. Are you saying you are afraid of the Minister?"

Robards looked ready to fall into a fit of laughter again but the indignity of the scene moments before quickly sobered him. He only smiled, "Afraid of the Minister? No, Mrs. Mason. I'm not afraid of the Minister. He'd likely award me a citation if I could find a way to convince Mr. Potter to arrive on time just once." Robards tapped on a memo on his desk in front of him, "It's actually the accountants." He knew she wouldn't see the humour in this. Witches never did. At least not in his experience, "You see, when Harry shows up for work we actually make the Ministry money."

The Head Auror recognised that look. Marianne tilted her head in the same way that Harry's previous partners had when Robards had shared the news with him, "It's a little known secret, but Harry has never been paid one silver Sickle by the Ministry in wages. In fact, Ewan learned a valuable lesson one day when he complained that the spell books for the advanced trainees were entirely outdated. The next day new spell books popped up in class for Harry and all of his fellow trainees. Since then, on occasion, a hint will be dropped about outdated or worn out items needing replacement and as if a wish has been made to a djinn the items will simply appear the next day."

"So, as you can see," the Head Auror leaned back in his chair again, "the accountants would have my head if I were to so much as frown at your partner."

"But that's just using him for his gold," Marianne complained. She couldn't help but laugh silently at her herself for changing sides so easily. How was she not still mad at Harry?

"Fine Mrs. Mason. Do me a favour and bring me your broom."

By the look on Marianne's face she knew where Robards was taking this but she couldn't help but snap at the bait, "My Nimbus? But I just got it last week. My old one was about to fall apart." He didn't say a word but the look on his face was deafening. She wanted to throw something at the smug bastard. He could never come out and make a point. The ruddy git had to use his bloody sarcasm instead. She wasn't giving up the broom, "Lovely. So what your saying is..."

"...That if you want another partner then all you need to do is ask." Robards was ready to make nice, "I understand your frustration. I can't fathom why he shows up each day or why he does what he does when he is here. You are an exceptional Auror and both of you seem to be good for each other. You challenge each other. But, if you feel you are getting the short end of it then I'll be happy to find someone less demanding of him. Frankly, I can't afford not to. Do you know how much a dozen Nimbus 2000s go for these days?"

Silently Marianne considered. It wasn't like his coming in late really bothered her so much. Mostly, now that she thought back on it, she'd been jealous that he got preferential treatment. The two of them did make a good team. Despite his propensity to arrive late, they had one of the best records of any of the Aurors teams on staff for closing out their case load. She didn't perform many protection details because with Harry present they'd only make a target more attractive – this made her husband very happy. Her husband worried that serving on protection details put her in danger.

She wanted to be angry with Harry but now it was Robards whom she was cross with. He was taking advantage of the poor boy, she decided.

Grudgingly, she whined, "He's not that bad. I just wanted him to understand the value of a hard day's work." Now her voice took on the tone that Robards's wife did when she was particularly disappointed with him, "And instead I found that you and your assistants are sponging off of him like dinner guests who duck for the loo when the check arrives. How embarrassing."

Robards didn't even pretend to be apologetic, "Mary, I've got a Department to run. The Ministry is just now making it's way out of a day to day bankruptcy watch. You're lucky we didn't have to cut wages across the board. If some bloke is going to offer me brooms or books or even paper for the wash room I'm going to take it. Lucky for you, you don't have my job...so now you must make a decision. Can you work with Mr. Potter or would you like to have another partner assigned to you? I hear _**Eliza's**_ partner is growing weary of_**her**_antics and I'm sure Miss Bell would be _**more**_than happy to work with Harry."

He didn't even bother to wait for an answer. He'd already found a memo on his desk that needed his attention and he dismissed her by way of forgetting she was there. She huffed and puffed. She was so upset that she didn't notice the smile on his face as she stormed out.

But her change in perspective allowed her to be more friendly with Harry as November approached. She kept a close eye on him and soon noticed that aside from his investigations sponsored by the Ministry he had other personal investigations that he carried on as well.

He had a small bound leather book with notes that she noticed were almost exclusively about the Daily Prophet. She didn't look over his shoulder but occasionally when she'd look his way she'd notice him write about Rita Skeeter, Sean Campbell, or some witch she'd never heard of named Eva Flanagan. Harry usually wrote his notes in the form of a question and these were no different. _ How did Sean hear? Who is the source? Why didn't we notice? Animagus? What is Rita's link to Sean?_

There were appointments for that witch Eva. _ Monday lunch E. Flanagan – likes seafood. 2 Nov at The Wolseley with Eva - remind her just mates. 8 Nov at Hard Rock Cafe - Let her down easy. _

There were reminders_. 27 October – Buy gift for Mrs. Weasley – ask Hermione ideas. 3 Nov - Send Congrat. Gwen. and Ang. Q. Cup - Ask about Ginny...12 Nov. - Take Winky checkup - due Feb..._Somehow he even remembered Marianne's birthday though she never told him when it was. _12 Dec. Xmas Gifts HG – book...RW – broom...Teddy - C. Frogs, toy chariot and that book we saw in Delphi...Lava - new robes fav. col red.._

Sometimes he merely wrote gibberish._ Search for Lava Neck in Rome. Where is Nero Castle? Check with Dir International Coop. Maybe they know someone to help look? Surprise Hermione._

She didn't want to pry but sometimes her eyes just drifted over. She certainly wasn't trying to spy. Each passing day showed Auror Marianne Mason one more facet of this strange wizard. Harry was one complicated bloke.

Now that she paid attention she learned what she really knew from the beginning:

While Harry had always wanted to become an Auror he really had no interest in the day to day drudgery of it all. He hated paperwork and research. He wanted to be out of the offices in public _**doing**_ something. Often, when they performed their field work, he ran around the countryside at such a dizzying pace that she couldn't fathom how he wasn't in a ward at St. Mungo's from exhaustion. Also, he had a wide variety of commitments and somehow he juggled all of them while doing this strange job that he didn't really like and didn't even get paid for doing.

And once she understood these truths she began to actually _**like**_ him. It wasn't long before she remembered that Harry had taken an interest in her daughter Madeline Mason at Hogwarts. His last year had been her first. Soon they were talking about Mrs Mason's daughter and all of a sudden she found herself confiding in him about all manners of her personal life. Her husband, Dr. Matthew Mason, a professor at Cambridge that Hermione was now sitting lessons with, was acting strangely.

It all started at the end of November. She began talking about the fact that her husband had grown listless. He was becoming clumsy. Being a Muggle, he insisted in doing his share of dishes by hand and because they were 'sophisticated' they shared the chores equally. If only he'd let her get things done they could have all the time they wanted to themselves. But no, he had to do the dishes and one evening he broke a plate.

And then he broke another plate the next evening. His hands suddenly had a mind of their own and when she wasn't looking he'd stare at them confused as he'd open and close them. A week later they were at a dinner party and he fell for no good reason. And then...did there have to be an "And then?"

Marianne and Harry were walking up the steps to interview a victim in Dorsetshire as she described the most recent incident to Harry. The wind was blowing something fierce and being early December the skies were threatening snow. At least snow wouldn't make them wet. This was the rainy season and Marianne hated when the rain would soak her robes. Certainly she could banish the wetness but she wasn't particularly good at it and she always felt damp and cold the rest of the afternoon. Harry listened to her story before he offered his thoughts, "Ask him to go visit a healer. There's no shame in getting checked out. He can go see a Muggle physician if he'd rather."

"But, he'll be embarrassed," she complained. "He'll insist it's nothing. You know how you blokes are. Always so much bravado...nothing could _**ever **_happen to you," she teased. "The whole lot of you are mental."

Harry knocked on the door, "Then ask him do it for Madeline's sake. If it is something, he might catch it before it gets too bad. Tell him that if it's nothing he can lord it over you for the rest of your married days."

"I suppose I could," she considered. She was about to thank him when the door opened. It was time to get back to work.

ZZZZZZZZZ

Harry woke with a start. He couldn't remember the dream but it hadn't been a good one. Harry'd learned soon after the war that he wouldn't be rid of Voldemort any time soon. Many a time Eliza had been forced to calm him down after a sweaty re-enactment of the death of Cedric or Sirius. Fortunately, tonight he hadn't stirred his precious Eliza. She lie there next to him with her head buried into his shoulder. He wondered how long they'd be like this – so close.

He heard stories about how couples could barely sleep in the same bed and how they complained about such trivialities as morning breath or snoring. Not him. He and Eliza would fall asleep facing each other and she'd bury herself into him the entire night. He could deal with morning breath and all of the other couples' complaints. After years of utter loneliness he found their closeness absolutely refreshing. Even now, he could feel her even breathing on his neck and the bit of drool on his arm and it only made him want to run his hand through her tangled hair and kiss her on her forehead.

How strange. Normally these thoughts put Harry back to sleep until the smell of freshly cooked bacon announced it was morning. Eliza always woke first. She'd make breakfast and serve him in bed as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Eliza took glorious satisfaction out of being able to feed her wizard where he slept and she made a grand gesture out of making it a most sensual experience on their mornings off.

Now Harry was determined something was wrong. He'd closed his eyes thinking happy thoughts about breakfast in bed with his sweetheart and he still wasn't asleep. He gently lifted Eliza's head off his arm and he slipped out of bed. A December draft nipped at his bare skin, they'd had to do away with the thick pyjamas with their sleeping so close. He was down to his pants. His thick winter cloak from the previous day was the closest thing to him. "Accio." he whispered and the cloak floated to him. He pulled out his wand and felt around for his night shoes in the dark. "Oy!" he whispered to himself when he stubbed his toe on something on the floor.

"Hmmm...? Nam Nom Nam..." he heard Eliza mumble in her sleep. He wondered if he made the same noises.

"Shhh..." he whispered with a finger over his mouth, "Go back to sleep."

Convinced she wouldn't wake, he slipped out of the room and closed the door quietly behind him, "Lumos."

A snack should help. His stomach rumbled like he hadn't eaten all day. But...

"What the..?" Harry asked himself.

He fumbled around in his pocket with his free hand and found it. It was the old DA badge from back at school his Fifth Year. The remaining members of the DA kept them in case of an emergency. Harry now used it primarily as a worry talisman. When he got annoyed he'd take it out of his pocket and rub on it with his thumb until he calmed down.

Now it was vibrating. When he pulled it out he found it was acting all funny. He'd never really taken the time to figure out how Hermione reconfigured it after the war. He didn't know who might be using it now so he crept up the stairs to make sure it wasn't Hermione or Ron. He cracked open the door so he could hear past the sound-proofing. No, wasn't them. Ron was snoring and Hermione was breathing quietly.

Now Harry was even more curious. He tried to remember the way it worked. He could have sworn that the person who activated it would have their name come up somehow. He placed the business end of his wand as close to the fake Galleon as he could.

"HL"

Harry started down the stairs trying to remember whom the initials "HL" might belong to. He might as well go check on them. He did a mental inventory. Hermione Granger...HG. Hannah Abbott...HA. He tried thinking of anyone else. He knew he'd figure it out. Luna Lovegood...LL. Neville had an "L." Who else had an "L?" Bugger. He couldn't think of anyone else with an "L."

"Bugger!"

He raced down the stairs two at a time. He didn't bother for the floo. He shot down the staircase to the ground floor and ran for the front door at full stride. Not even bothering to close the door behind him she jumped off the front porch and apparated before he hit the ground.

He landed exactly where he'd planned and two strides later his hand gripped a familiar handle. Unfortunately, the handle didn't twist and he crumpled to the ground when his shoulder buried itself into the solid oak door.

"Bloody Hell!" he shouted...rubbing his tender shoulder while sprawled on the ground.

He nearly made the problem worse trying to kick the door open. Fortunately, his fuzzy night shoes peaked out from under the robe and he remembered he was grossly unprepared for this endeavour.

"Bloody Bloody Bloody Hell!" he shouted out loud. He took time away from his problem just long enough to muse that he sounded more like Ron than himself at the moment.

Then it came to him. He stepped back ten paces. He looked to his left and his right on the deserted street. No Muggles... "_**Reducto!**_" he shouted.

The door splintered inward with a loud crash. Harry shot through it. "Hannah!"

The Cauldron was a mess. It wasn't the _Reducto. _The pub had obviously been tossed. Harry's training kicked in and he eyed the mess carefully while quickly taking in every detail. Within a moment he knew there was nothing helpful in the room. The kitchen was next. He was sure not to let himself be surprised by someone waiting behind a door or hiding under a table. Pots and pans and broken dishes littered the floor but the kitchen was also clear.

That's when he heard a scream.

Harry knew he was of no use if he was caught in an ambush. He carefully walked up the stairs. Silently he charmed his feet so they wouldn't let the floor 'creak' on an errant step. As he rounded the first landing he kept a watch for red or green flashes.

_Thwak! _He'd ducked just in time. A red streak passed over his shoulder and shattered a portrait on the wall just above his ear. On instinct alone he aimed his wand upward around the turn in the landing and he shot off a pair of silent stunners. He heard an _**'Umph' **_followed by the thump something falling on the stairs.

He hazarded a look around the corner. There was a grubby looking wizard - stunned and sprawled along the top four stairs. Harry stepped carefully up the steps and silently he bound the bloke with twist of his wand.

Another scream jarred his attention away from the foul smelling bloke. This time the sound didn't come from far. Harry found the door just steps away. It had been thrown open. There, standing before him, were two wizards holding down a familiar blonde witch in a torn blouse and little left of her bottoms but her knickers. One of the wizards was busy ripping at what was left of her clothes and the taller one was looking right at him with his wand drawn.

The wizard took little time to react, "Stupefy!"

Thankfully, Harry had become proficient with non-verbal shields months ago and it gave him just enough time to block the awkward stunner. Unfortunately, the shorter wizard had already released Hannah to pull out his own wand. He must have landed something silently because Harry felt himself crash through the door of the room on the opposite side of the hall. He shook the ringing out of his ears and picked himself up. Somehow he'd held on to his wand.

He peeked back out of the room and into the hall. The two wizards were running for the bloke he'd bound at the top of the steps. The shorter wizard, the one that landed the blow on Harry, held up the bound wizard's hand and touched it to an object. The two disappeared in a flash. The taller one, still there, saw that he had let go of the portkey too soon and shouted "No!" Seeing that Harry was getting a hold of his senses he panicked and rambled down the stairs. Harry followed quickly after.

Harry raced down the first flight of stairs as fast as he could. When he reached the landing he took a sharp turn and saw his prey was four steps short of the bottom. Harry leaped off the landing and tackled the bloke to the ground just as he reached the bottom step. Both rolled and rolled on the floor trying to regain their bearings but Harry ended up on top. Hoping to slow the wizard down, Harry landed a hard left to the wizard's gut. The blow must have struck home because his opponent began sucking for air as if the wind were knocked out of him.

The room started to spin as Harry stood back up. He tried pointing his wand at the wizard but it was useless. Looking down, a bone from his right forearm jutted out awkwardly from the skin. Somehow he still held his wand but he couldn't make his hand or his arm do anything. He pulled the wand out of his right hand and pointed it at...pointed it at...Harry had to take a knee. He felt as if he might heave.

There were two of them now. Not two blokes...Two of the same bloke. Harry was seeing double. Dark hair like his own. Eyes? He couldn't tell. There were four of them. Now two. Now..Harry was going to be sick.

"Who are you?" Harry shouted as he pointed his wand menacingly with his left hand. He was still on a knee. He was fighting the sick. It was in the back of his throat pushing its way up. He tried to ignore the awkwardly bent arm hanging from his right elbow. He couldn't do it. He got sick all over his knee and his shoe. All over the floor in front of him.

Still winded from Harry's blow, the wizard pulled himself up from the ground. He was dark haired. No, Harry already knew that. He needed to remember more. Blue or grey eyes. One or the other. Harry was going to pass out. He needed to stay awake. "Who are you?" Harry repeated. "I'll curse you into oblivion! With the Cuciat...the Cru... if I have to!"

Harry was seeing double again. He needed to do something before he lost consciousness. He tried to remember as many details as he could. The bloke had a long face like a horse and his head was big for his body. And ears like...bloody wings. Why was he cursing so much tonight? And why couldn't he...?


	24. TP 24 The Waking

**Chapter 24 – The Waking**

**Submitted: Sunday 13 May 2012**

Harry woke with familiar cold sweats. He couldn't remember the details: Riddle, Barty, the Dementers at the lake...they all brought the same cold shivers when he woke. He tried to will the visions back to consciousness so he could mull over the meaning but they hid carefully behind the same shadowy veil that he used to separate his worst memories from his now happy life. It was probably for the best...the last thing he needed was an encore performance of Cedric's demise or his last moments with Sirius.

At least Eliza was nearby. He could feel her head on his chest. He craned his neck to give her a quick peck on the top of her head before he eased himself back to sleep. "Oy!" the pain shot from his shoulder to his brain and then to each of his extremities. It reminded him of the time he'd tried to hide his uncle's keys in an electrical outlet.

For the first time he noticed bandages wrapped tightly around his shoulder. He noticed that the room wasn't right either. Though it was dark the shadows were all wrong and the smell was off. "More flowery," he thought out loud to himself. Also, and he wasn't sure because he'd only caught a glimpse, he suspected the witch on his chest was not Eliza.

Harry peeked down again and his suspicions were confirmed. A full head of blonde hair rested on his chest in the place where Eliza's red locks should be. On his right shoulder was what looked like a cast or a bandage of some sort. It held his arm firmly. He remembered doing something to it but couldn't remember what. He'd jumped off of something. He could taste bile in his sinuses and the back of his throat burned as if he'd been sick. Or maybe it was a smell? Most likely it was both. Blech.

Neville was going to kill him. Neville'd demanded he leave Hannah alone and here he was sleeping next to her? But how did he get here? His head ached like he'd had a cauldron dropped on it. He could remember waking up late. How much more could he remember if he tried hard enough?

Waking up? Coming to a door? Or being thrown through it? Someone had hit him with a spell. So there must have been a fight. Fight? Yeah, he'd hit someone. The Leaky Cauldron had been tossed. He remembered that. Maybe he had checked on a burglary. Perhaps they'd caught him by surprise. Maybe Hannah had found him. No...something was wrong with Hannah. There were people. They'd held her down. They were going to...

"Hannah."

He felt her eyes on him, "Yes Harry?"

"Are you all right? Did something happen? I can't remember."

He felt her breath on his chest as she sighed, "You hit your head in a scuffle. And your arm. And your shoulder. And perhaps your leg."

"Is everything ok?"

He knew she was smiling. He just knew it. He could hear a combination of relief and mirth in her voice, "Aside from the broken collar bone? And the fractured arm? And the broken leg? Knots the size of snitches on the front and back of your head? They said with rest and a few potions you should be fine." She was holding something back.

"Is there anything else?"

"The healers did say that if you plan to rescue a damsel in distress in the future you should wear more than slippers. Fuzzy bunnies are rubbish in a fight."

"With you, Hannah! Oy!" He'd twisted his shoulder trying to look down at her. He was a mess.

His grimace must have torn away her last bit of resolve, "They were going to...If you hadn't come...they were arguing over who was going to get to go first..."

He remembered now. The panic in her eyes. Clothes torn to rags. Unseemly blokes pinning her down. There were two...no, three. One he'd tackled after he'd been blasted through a door. No wonder his head hurt. Two of them used a portkey to get away but he'd chased another down the stairs. What happened after that?"

"Did they...?" Harry couldn't finish the sentence.

"No," she sounded as if she were ready to cry. "Right at closing they barged in. The pub was empty because we've had the rooms upstairs closed to guests for the remodelling. They tore the place apart while making threats and yelling that Neville shouldn't of betrayed 'his kind.' Then they dragged me upstairs and threatened to carve a big 'BT' in my chest once they were done with me. Instead they just tore at my clothes and argued. I think they were afraid. The way they talked it was some sort of initiation. They had me pinned down forever. I had that Galleon in my hand rubbing it furiously while trying and trying to will it to work but no-one came."

"At least you are all right" Harry felt relieved.

"I'm not all right!" Hannah screeched. Harry felt tears on his chest. They quickly began to pool. "They tore off my clothes Harry! I was sure they were going to...do things...and kill me. If you hadn't of come I'd likely be dead."

Harry's entire right side throbbed with pain as Hannah pounded on his bandaged collar bone. He was convinced she'd broken it again but did his best to ignore the pain. He tried to change the subject, "Where is everyone? Where are we?"

"We're in one of the flats. Ron and Hermione are downstairs with half the Ministry looking the place over. Eliza said you'd woke her up running down the stairs at your place. She woke the others up when she found the found the front door wide open. Hermione found her badge vibrating when she got dressed and she sent Ron and Eliza for help. I think she got nervous for you because she then came here alone. She exited the Floo to find me crouched over you sobbing. I thought you were dead."

"What happened to the...?"

"He must have thought I had my wand when I came downstairs. He obviously didn't wait to find out. He ran for the door without a second look. I didn't bother with him – I had seen you collapse and I was worried for you. He wasn't worth it." Hannah finally picked her head up so that Harry could see her. Her face was covered in bruises and she had a black eye, "Hermione got you stable. Then she cleaned me up and got some clothes on me before the others got here."

"Where's Neville?" Harry's head was beginning to throb again and he closed his eyes.

Hannah must not have felt good either. He felt her cheek, still damp with tears, back on his chest, "He's off on an expedition to find some rare herbs for Professor Sprout. She's been mentoring him for a position at Hogwarts. There's a party out looking for him now. He doesn't take the badge because he's afraid he'll lose it out in the wilderness. Until you showed up I was _**so**_convinced I was going to be killed."

Harry yawned. He was just so tired. He tried to but...

* * *

><p>The linens felt fresh. More comforting, Harry noticed that Hannah was no longer on his chest. The bandage was still tightly wrapped around his shoulder. When he rustled around he heard the "Harrumph" of someone clearing his throat.<p>

"Hello?" Harry called out to the dark.

"They told me you saved her life. I can't get anything more out of them."

"How long have you been here?" Harry coughed out. He was parched.

Harry heard footsteps. Through the blackness the shadow of a large lumbering figure towered over him. The whish of liquid and clanks of ice could be heard as water was poured from an unseen pitcher to a cup. "Drink this," Neville mumbled as he put the cold glass of water to Harry's lips. The water felt good on his throat.

"I've been told she's not good. But she's in one piece. Thank you."

Before Harry could gather the wits to say "You're welcome" Neville had already opened the door, blinding Harry, and closed it behind him.

There must have been something in the water because Harry's head began to swim. He fought off the effects as long as he could. There were still so many questions. Who had attacked Hannah? Why were they upset with Neville? What was it they had said? He was a blood traitor?"

* * *

><p>Harry woke to find himself in his own bed. The bandage was gone but a cast remained on his forearm. The curtains had been pulled open and the light was a welcome sight. Harry imagined Madam Pomfrey's warning ring through his head like it had so many times, "You can't keep doing this to yourself, Harry. These injuries are mounting up. One day you won't be able to stand without it hurting."<p>

How many times had he woken up to her warnings of doom and gloom. She'd spent the better part of a decade holding him together with healing charms and spell-o-tape.

"Did you hear me Harry? You need to take better care of yourself." That wasn't a voice from his head. She was here.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Harry called out. He did the best he could with his limited range of motion to get a good look around the room. There she was, in the far corner, pulling out a vial and her wand. It didn't take her long before she was standing over him, "Drink this and I'll get that cast off. As bad as that break was and with your previous injuries to the arm I wasn't taking any chances."

"Why are you here?" asked Harry. "Shouldn't you be at school?."

"Actually," Madam Pomfrey smiled, "I put in my resignation with Hogwarts effective the end of the year. The Headmaster found a replacement that could start at the end of the Autumn Term and I was taking a few shifts at St. Mungo's until my permanent position opened next year."

"You just happened to be the one that arrived to help me and Hannah?" Harry asked. "What a coincidence."

"Oh, no," laughed Madam Pomfrey. "Actually, Hermione visited Hannah at St. Mungo's and she saw me in the same ward. We got to talking and I told her that with the Cauldron's rooms closed for renovation I was forced to stay at a Muggle hotel until I found a permanent place. She offered for me to stay here until I found something permanent. I protested but she said it was the least she could do after all of the times I patched you lot up. She wouldn't take no for an answer."

"That sounds like Hermione," Harry said. "She's being groomed by Mrs. Weasley. It won't be long before you'll have to squint to tell the difference."

"Cooking," Ron could be heard from the door. "You will always be able to tell them apart by their cooking."

"Ron!" Harry cheered. "It's good to see you mate. I don't see much of you of late with that investigation you are working on."

"I'll second that," his mate offered. Ron paused as if he were deciding whether to to say something or not, "Bah, to hell with it. Poppy won't talk to anyone, will you?"

"Excuse me?" Madam Pomfrey looked slightly offended. "After all those half baked plans you lot made in my Infirmary and I said nary a word?" She had half of Harry's cast off but stopped to make sure Ron got a good sight of her scowl.

Ron explained, "Pure bloods have been at war with each other ever since the fall of Voldemort. Now that he's gone, there is a group that believes that the 'Blood Traitors' are worse than Muggle Borns because they are allowing magic blood to be tainted. The other night at the Cauldron was a botched attempt to make an example of Neville. We're trying to figure out who's involved, as many as possible, before we finally strike."

"What?" Harry asked while trying to get up on his elbows. Madam Pomfrey would have nothing of it. She pushed him back down on his back and gave him a signature warning look. Harry ignored her and instead glared at his mate, "Why wasn't I told about this? We could have cleaned it up months ago."

"Really?" Ron was unconvinced. "Mate, you sometimes act without thinking. We needed witches and wizards willing to take the time to ferret these snakes out slowly. If you'd known about the things they've done you'd have acted well before we had all of them. As it is, we felt that it was best if only Pure Bloods were part of the task force. I wouldn't be telling you at all if I didn't think Neville would say something. He's ready to curse away every pure blood alive just to get back at the lot of us for hurting his wife."

"That seems a bit hypocritical," Harry mused. "He's pure blood."

"Exactly."

Madam Pomfrey was now fluffing Harry's pillows and keeping her tongue. She could tell that her patient had tensed up though he let on very little to his mate. Inwardly, she questioned Ron's logic for telling Harry even now. She wondered how long it would be before Harry was looking for Hannah's attacker. He wouldn't wait for justice. That much was sure. She'd witnessed all of Harry's looks over the years and this was the one he usually reserved for the Professors when they visited the Infirmary to make him promise to leave well enough alone.

"So, how come I haven't heard anything about this in the papers?" Harry asked. "They get wind of every witch I take a walk with but they miss attacks and killings?"

"No killings yet," Ron answered. "Some pretty thorough beatings and a few brandings. One blokes wife had 'BT' carved into her with a cursed knife so that the scars wouldn't go away. Everyone's afraid to let this out, including the victims for fear of the start of another war. The Pure Bloods are afraid the Muggle Borns and Half bloods will assume all Pure Bloods are bad and that they will finally unite to do away with all of us."

"Perfect." Harry couldn't shake his head in disgust but it made him no less disgusted all the same. He remembered something Hannah had said, "Hannah kept crying that they were going to kill her?"

"They always hide their identities when they attack." Ron looked carefully at Madam Pomfrey, "You can't share any of this with anyone...really." She nodded solemnly and he continued on, "These blokes were no geniuses. They must have been sent there to make their bones...to get into the group. They happened to use Polyjuice Potion and they lingered too long. She got a good look at their real faces and we got perfect descriptions. A couple of blokes I'd heard nothing of to be honest. Lesser members of a couple of upper middle class families. I didn't recognise any of them from Hogwarts. Anything you can tell me that Hannah might have missed?"

"I can provide a memory from the night if you have a vial," Harry offered.

"That would be brilliant, mate." Ron fumbled around his robes for a vial but found none. He finally summoned a vial and handed it to his mate. Madam Pomfrey found Harry's wand for him and he touched it to his temple. The memory itself looked like a long stream of sticky plasma as it reluctantly released itself from Harry's mind. Ron covered one last base, "Please, Harry, promise me you will stay out of this and let my people work this out."

"It sounds as if you and Ewan have it handled," Harry said to Ron. Madam Pomfrey saw that gleam in his eyes and recognised he'd never actually committed to anything. He must have recognised that she knew. His eyes flashed a warning glance, "How long until I'm able to get out of this bed?"

"Give it until dinner," Madam Pomfrey answered. "I'm more worried about the concussions than I am the arm. I can fix arms but you keep getting these blows to the head, Harry, and you won't remember how to get out of bed."

"Lovely," Harry thought out loud.

"I need to get back to the Ministry," Ron said as he made for the door. "Take care of yourself, mate, and I'll see you at dinner."

* * *

><p>Dinner was a quiet affair. Hermione and Eliza kept a careful eye on him as he carved away at his roast. He'd made the mistake of visiting the kitchen early and the aroma had been overwhelming. Kreacher passed the dirtiest of glances at him when he tried to snack early so instead he waited faithfully. It took no time for the first helping of roast and potatoes to be devoured once they appeared on his plate.<p>

He didn't speak a word as he made short work of that first serving. The witches stared at him open-mouthed. Oblivious, Madam Pomfrey described the changes that had taken place at Hogwarts, "The Headmaster has placed her own stamp on the school...I'll say that much. And all for the better, I say."

"Why did you leave, then?" asked Ron. He was putting on a show of his own as he paid particular attention the roast.

"Hasn't been the same since you lot left. The boys get in their fair share of trouble but it has been so _quiet_." Madam Pomfrey looked positively disappointed, "I decided I needed more. And besides, this allows the Headmaster to make the transition to a younger staff more easily. Professors Slughorn, Binns, Babbling are already gone...even the Centaur plans to retire by years end."

As Pomfrey continued to describe the changes at Hogwarts, Harry considered what he knew about the attackers. It miffed him that Ron had kept this from him. He'd respected the secrecy of the investigation to now because he thought it was some sort of internal investigation of the Ministry. He tried to avoid Hermione's eyes as he considered his course of action. He wasn't going to stand for attacks on his mates.

* * *

><p><em>3 Jan 2001<em>

_Dear. Mr. Potter,_

_I am not sure how these blasted owls work but I find myself compelled to make it known that I was none to happy to be accosted by a colleague in my own office yesterday afternoon. Dr. Reddy made it known that he was instructed to perform a thorough physical on me at your request. While I appreciate your interest in my health I wish to request formally that you SOD OFF and leave me bloody well alone._

_With All the Respect You Are Due,_

_Dr. Matthew Mason, Professor of Physics  
><em>_University of Cambridge_

Harry smiled. He probably would have reacted the same way. Dr. Reddy had all but assaulted the professor. It would have been much easier if his partner's husband hadn't been so hard-headed but he'd flat out refused to have a physician look at him. He'd become even more clumsy of late and Marianne was so concerned that she had grown distracted on the job. Nothing was more dangerous than a distracted Auror and Harry worried for her. Dr. Reddy had performed a full physical in addition to some tests inspired by instinct. The results were due back by end of week.

Meanwhile, Harry'd finally fully recovered from the concussions. It was decided, once all of the details of the evening were pieced together, that Harry had lost consciousness from the concussions and not from the pain of his fractured arm. While wizards were generally more resistant to head trauma, Poppy insisted that his history might make him more prone to concussions in the future, "Harry, between all of those Quidditch injuries and the killing curses - think of how many times you've been knocked unconscious, Harry."

Now he was focused on learning more about these blokes that were attacking his mates. One thing bothered him more than any other – the attackers had used Polyjuice Potion. He knew where a large supply of Polyjuice Potion had been manufactured. The problem was that he'd all but promised everyone from Robards to Hecate that he'd steer clear of the home that housed the wizard that was brewing up insane amounts of the potion for Merlin knew what purpose. He'd been ordered by the Director of Magical Law Enforcement to leave the place alone as well but what if this bloke was part of the conspiracy?

There was no way to know what kind of evil lurked behind the door of this bloke's home. What he did know was that the owner of the home, Sylvester Stallworth, had a secret to hide. Even Hecate knew something was wrong with the place though she couldn't tell him what. Whatever fate that awaited him behind that door was so bad that she'd begged him to leave it alone.

But Harry couldn't shy away from his fate forever. He wouldn't watch as his mates continued to be threatened and hurt. No longer was he some young boy. He'd done as Dumbledore and the Minister had challenged him to do and he'd continued to train with Hermione. Harry was quite the powerful wizard now – more powerful than he let on.

While he might have reason to fear whatever was on the other side of that door, he was going to make dead sure he gave as much as he got.

**A/N: Let me know what you think.**


	25. TP 25 A Cocktail Named Conspiracy

**Chapter 25 – A Cocktail Named Conspiracy...**

**Submitted: 20 May 2012**

There wasn't a cabinet or drawer left untouched when Harry had finished. He'd looked in his room. He'd searched the library on the second landing. Even the small Potions Lab they'd tucked into a corner of the kitchen in the basement had been checked just in case. Nowhere was the Felix Felicis potion to be found that he'd bought from Slughorn his last year at Hogwarts.

'It must be somewhere,' Harry thought to himself. He began to consider whether he could have Slughorn whip up another batch on such short notice. 'Of course,' he reminded himself, 'Slughorn's in Paris for the month of January to celebrate the new millennium.' January marked 'A New Magical Age' and delegates for many of the magical governments around the world had decided to meet to decide all manner of topics for the coming years. Such minutia as where the next few Quidditch World Cups would be held and changes to the international minimum cauldron thickness standards were being hotly debated, he imagined.

Potion or no potion, Harry decided he wasn't waiting another night to enter the home of Sylvester Stallworth. This was not a strike mission – it was an evening of reconnaissance. He'd tried to figure out what went on inside that home for months now but because those that visited the place took magical vows of secrecy he couldn't beg, bribe or coerce the information out of anyone. Those he spoke to were incorruptible...which was unique for his line of work. Seldom did those he investigate show such restraint.

So, the night before, while lying awake next to Eliza he'd decided it would be a brilliant idea to have a little luck on his side. That's when he thought of using the Felix Felicis came to him. And now, he was tossing his own home hoping to find the crystal vial that held it. Granted it had worked so much better when convincing Slughorn to offer an unaltered memory than it did when he'd used it to influence the results of the hearings for his house elves. The trial...

...had been when he'd used the potion. He'd wasted hours looking for a potion he'd already used. How did that slip his mind? "Pomfrey must be right about those concussions," Harry complained to himself.

Non-plussed, Harry packed a small meal and a few snacks along with other necessities that might be required if he were forced to sit under his cloak for hours watching inside the home. Most important, he brought a portkey in case he needed to leave in a hurry. A small silver ring covered in runes, it fit well on the ring finger of his right hand. Two turns around the finger and it would transport him to his own home.

Arriving just after dusk, Harry decided that Mr. Stallworth's manor was busier than he last remembered it. The people that walked in seemed so innocent, Harry thought to himself, but he wasn't fooled. The young wizard was sure that the blokes that had accosted Hannah had used Polyjuice Potion and his gut told him that the potion had come from here. Finding a nearby shadow, Harry threw the cloak over himself and actually stepped on the grounds for the first time.

Once he reached the front door he waited for the right moment. Time and again the door was opened by a couple or a witch or a wizard. In each instance the door would shut quickly behind with a slam. It didn't take Harry long to realise that he would get caught by the door if he followed behind an able bodied couple. He saw his chance when an old bloke and his wife slowly ambled up to the monstrosity of oak that served as Harry's new nemesis. He'd time it perfectly.

Following quietly and carefully close behind, he shuffled his feet under the cloak with small steps. He'd been tempted to place a hand on the wife's shoulder to keep proper time but thought better of it. The door opened. He followed. His feet shuffled. Thump!

The door had closed immediately behind them. It was as if it were a turnstile rather than an actual door. He studied it more closely now. Made of firm oak and carved with ornate images of snakes of all kinds. Carved in old English print was the phrase, 'Only the Cunning Shall Pass.' He wondered if there was some sign he must provide in order to enter.

A group could be heard from behind. Two blokes were going on about the new Firebolt while the witches prattled on about the new Chaser for the Tornadoes. Harry could never figure out why witches were so interested in Quidditch stars bums when they were always stationed firmly on the latest brooms during matches.

One of the blokes opened the door wide for his party to enter, Harry flicked his wand from under his cloak and a flash he'd fashioned to imitate a bright firefly distracted the party with a 'pop.'

"What was that?" asked one in the party.

Harry didn't bother to wait for the answer seeing as he already knew what it was. He darted in front of the generous bloke who'd opened the giant door for him and he slipped in. Behind him he heard the door close with a 'slam!' and he sniggered as he heard the bloke curse from behind it.

On his side of the door, he was faced by a young wizard behind a counter who stared through him worried that no-one had passed. Harry had to spin to dodge the anxious guardian as he whisked around the counter and made to secure the door shut until he figured out just what was the matter with the security controls imposed on entry. It didn't seem prudent to linger so Harry rushed through the foyer holding tightly to the underside of his cloak.

He passed under the archway that separated the Foyer from the Sitting Room to find a pleasant room meant for entertaining. The Sitting Room had been arranged with columns and screens so that it was broken into several small discreet spaces while still retaining it's overall grand feel. The candles that served to light the spaces were aided by a humongous chandelier of fine crystal that gave a soft romantic flicker to the entire chamber. Tables were interspersed amongst the spaces and the sitting room reminded Harry of a fine restaurant or club that a couple might visit for a romantic evening with drinks.

What was not here was a room full of evil nay-doers bent on the destruction of the sane world of magic.

Even so, he knew that the owner of this home was the single largest producer of Polyjuice Potion in all of England. Harry wanted to know what Mr. Stallworth was doing with all of this potion. Was he selling it? Was he using it to help rogue Pure Bloods perform 'initiations?' Harry'd checked...Sylvestor Stallworth was a Pure Blood old moneyed Slytherin who'd attended Hogwarts only a few years before the Marauders and had shared a dorm with his mate Lucius Malfoy. Mr. Stallworth was a Potions Master who'd worked for the Department of Mysteries until the fall of Voldemort when he'd chosen to resign rather than answer questions about his feelings for Voldemort or the Death Eaters.

Harry's eyes darted around for a safe low traffic spot to park himself. Despite what one would think, going unnoticed under an invisibility cloak was much more difficult than it seemed. It was easy enough in an empty corridor of the castle but this place was a madhouse. All the seats were filled in the more private sections and the walkways were full to the gills of those getting from here to there and those waiting in herds with drinks hoping for a seat to open up. Harry finally found himself a spot near a decorative vase but even then he had to keep an eye on a bloke who lingered around the area and would occasionally pass dangerously close-by.

The pub, as Harry now thought of it, was obviously an A-List establishment. Despite several regular witches and wizards, there were a number of celebrities as well. It made sense, most celebrities would want to go some place where they could be outside of the reach of the general fan. Otherwise they'd be mauled. There must have been some sort of policy against bothering the celebrities though because, besides whomever they were speaking to, they were practically ignored.

Harry counted off Quidditch stars, a few musicians, and even a few actors. There were very few cinema or tellie productions attempted in the wizard world but the wizard theatre had a very strong following. Moving pictures just never caught on with the magical community but some of the productions at a wizard theatre would marvel even the the most demanding audience.

He began to gain new respect for some of the more well known celebrities. He'd always thought that the famous gravitated to attractive witches and wizards when they dated outside their group. But Ike Gold, Beater for the Tutshill Tornados, was sitting with a rather haggish witch in a corner and chatting her up over a Firewhiskey and Butterbeer. The same could be said for Esmelda Finch, the Goal Keeper for Pride of Portree. The bloke she was with was much older with a bulbous nose and half an eyebrow missing.

When he recognised Hazel, he wanted to step out from under his cloak. He hadn't seen her in months – not since his birthday. It was probably for the best he couldn't say hello...she had eyes for no-one except this older wizard that could have been her grandfather.

Harry took time from people watching to return to what he'd come here for. He began to pay less attention to the occupants and more on the chamber itself. While the room indeed had the feel of an upmarket romantic restaurant there was little food served. Mostly, wizards and witches were ordering drinks from two bars. One was in the corner directly across and to the left from the entrance. Mostly, those that purchased drinks at this bar would sit back down with their partners or wait for a table.

In another corner, across from the entrance and to the right, was another bar. Unlike the first bar, their was only one barkeep stationed here. An older gentleman with a serious expression, once his patrons had received their drinks, they would meet their partners at a door between the two bars and they'd retire to whatever lied beyond.

This new door seemed very interesting to Harry. Everyone here was pleasant. What could be going on back there? Maybe private meetings? This would be the ultimate cover for any illicit activity. The facility had excellent safeties to control of those that came and went...him not withstanding. That door held the key he was sure. "Ha Ha..." he laughed to himself. That door held the key... Ruddy puns.

Puns were the furthest thing from Harry's mind when he caught Ginny peeking out of the very same door he'd just been contemplating. All thoughts of Polyjuice Potions and conspiracies were forgotten and all he could think about was why and how she could possibly be here. Now? He knew she'd be furious if she saw him but he felt the insatiable need to see her up close – to hear her voice. He wanted so much to kiss her lips...to touch her skin...to bury himself in her hair. He decided to go find her and if the moment felt right he'd at least say hello.

Harry barely avoided a wizard as he rushed for the door and he didn't get by as cleanly as he'd have liked. He dodged and got around but the wizard obviously knew something was up. The bloke stopped in his tracks and looked all around him. Finally, satisfied, he put his arm around his girlfriend, "Funniest feeling. Felt like a piece of silk passed over my hand."

No other obstacles came between him and the door. He waited a few seconds for it to open again but finally grew impatient and desperation overtook caution. He opened the door while under the cloak, hoping no-one would notice. He slipped through as large a crack as he'd dare and then closed the door quickly behind him.

What he found on the other side was a long dimly lit hall with no less than ten doors on each side. As he made his way carefully down the hall he noticed the first door he came to was numbered "29." Harry took advantage of the dim light to pull off his cloak and he fixed his mussed up hair in a mirror next to the door. It was no use, the unruly locks were no more manageable tonight than the afternoon Uncle Dursley had last tried to cut them.

"Harry!" it was Ginny's voice. "I didn't expect to see you again! You seemed so angry! Were you looking for me or did you pick up someone else? I imagine you'd be rather popular here..."

He lit up, "No! I saw you pop out the door for just a second. I wanted to see you so badly. I haven't been able to get you off of my mind. I don't know why you'd think I was angry with you. It was entirely my fault." Harry tumbled over his words. He couldn't get the words out fast enough.

Ginny ran to his arms, "You don't have to say that," she admonished him as she placed a finger over his lips. "It was both of our faults. I had this fantasy of my own going on my head and between the two of us I just don't think it worked out. I'd love to try again. If you would that is."

Harry choked on his own breath. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He kissed her soundly on the lips with passion he forgot he had. Snogging him furiously, she pulled him toward her room. As they reached the door she door swung open and pulled him through it, "I've only got ten minutes at most before I have to change and get back but what do you say we make this time together count? It'll be some time before I'm able to see you again."

He didn't know what to say. Harry'd always told himself that he'd wait but he felt like Ginny had always been the one. There was also another consideration, "Ginny, I started seeing this witch from the Aurors offices a few months ago. I don't think it would be appropriate if we were to do that."

"Oh...you remembered to say something...you are doing so much better this time. I know about her already but do describe her to me." She began to kiss him on the neck between attempts to pull his robes over his shoulders.

Harry stopped kissing and looked at her strangely, "I don't know if I should do that. I can't lie. I didn't think I'd ever be able to date again but I've really taken a fancy to her. I know I shouldn't be saying this but I feel you should know. I love you so much but I don't know if this is right. I really do fancy her. It's all confusing." he expected Ginny to groan frustrated.

Instead she seemed to grow more anxious. She tugged harder on his robes, "Tell me about her. Describe her to me. Is she beautiful?" Ginny made a second try and this time she got his robes over his shoulders. She threw the robes to the side and kissed him hard full on the lips.

He realised she was finding this oddly attractive and he decided to play along. Interspersed between gropes and kisses he panted out a few words at a time, "She's quite stunning. She has these brilliant blue eyes. She's a little taller than me. And smart too." She pulled off her own robes as he spoke and pushed him onto the nearby bed hard. Now they were just down to his shorts and her knickers.

"Do you want her as much as me?" Ginny asked with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She didn't bother to wait for an answer as she straddled him and began kissing him on the neck.

"What sort of question is that? Blimey Ginny!" Harry found himself upset. He couldn't make himself continue to play along.

Ginny looked him square in the eye, "Just tell me! Have you ever wanted her as much as me? Have you wanted to shag her?"

Harry felt this was dangerous ground but he figured honesty was the best course. Reluctantly he gave in, "Yes, I've wanted to. There are nights...she makes me happy, Ginny. And she's older and she's got this way about her. She's all...I...I can't explain it."

"Brilliant answer. I think you've earned yourself another shot. We'll need to make it quick though. I want our first time to be special. I want you to be able to see everything. And I want to be able to look into those gorgeous green eyes."

Harry knew he couldn't tell her no. Not now. Not this time. He couldn't lose her again. Principles be damned, this was the witch he loved. He'd do whatever she asked.

While she kissed his chest her arms found the clasp to her top. She began to shift her weight to take off her bottoms. He'd never her seen her like this. This was beyond those nights in the Burrow. Her eyes blazed with a fierceness and a dogged determination that he'd never seen in Ginny before. It became hard to breathe. Now, with nothing between them but his pants, he couldn't help but drink her in. Ginny was a vision. With a devilish grin she looked right back at him, "Is it what you expected?"

"And then some," he choked out.

"Well we only have minutes more. If we are going to do this we need to do it now. Keep talking to me. Tell me about this witch you've been seeing. I want to know _**everything**_ about her." She began to tug at his shorts.

This caused Harry to jump. He wanted to make her happy but he felt it was wrong to be doing this while describing the one person that had been faithful to him through all the good and the bad. He returned to stalling, "Why don't we get married first? We could do it now. Just the two of us. Besides, why do you keep asking me about Eliza?"

"Look, I know I said I wanted you to play up the whole waiting bit but can we call that off now? As it is you're doing a bang up job acting like him. You snog just like him. The whole bit with the smouldering eyes and the way you run your hands up my back makes me quiver but we don't have time for all this role play. I seriously need to change in about three minutes. I'd say in six it won't matter anyway." He looked at her dumbfounded. She yelled at him, "Just do it! Now!"

Harry was confused. He couldn't wrap his head around what she was saying. She reached for his shorts again and he pushed her off out of instinct. And then it happened.

At first it was her eyes – almond brown was replaced by a deep midnight blue. Her figure became fuller and her bosom grew. Her hair became a shade more orange and less red. Her legs grew longer and parts of Ginny he had never seen before transformed into parts he now recognised. The familiar smile that Ginny had worn so easily was transformed, as well, but not by magic. It was replaced with a dark seething anger that was unrecognisable on Eliza's face.

"Bugger! You let it run out! You weren't supposed to see me like this!" Eliza screamed.

"What?" Harry was in a complete state of shock. He didn't know where he was, who he was with or if any of this was even real. "What is going on? Where am I? Where did Ginny go?"

"It _**wore off**_ you Duffer!" Eliza shrieked. "It only lasts a bloody hour! I bloody well warned you! No! You had to go on and on blathering! You could have at least helped me with the clothes! Blimey! You're worse than the real Harry!"

"What?" Harry was still dazed. The room was swimming. Pillows were strewn everywhere. He now noticed all sorts of gadgets around the room that he hadn't had time for before. Scented candles had been the only source of light so he hadn't looked hard with so much attention on Ginny. There was a chest labelled 'restraints' and another labelled 'sensual.' The room seemed painted and decorated for 'special engagements.'

The witch before him paused to consider. She'd already covered herself...not nearly the exhibitionist now that she was in her own skin. She tilted her head slightly, "Who _**are**_ you?_"_

"Harry."

"No. Really. I mean...after this whole catastrophe? There isn't enough Polyjuice in the world to make me want to crawl back in bed with you. Even if you were Harry himself you wouldn't be getting any tonight." Eliza had begun pulling her knickers closer to her, subtly, and she was dressing herself behind a now closely drawn sheet. Harry began to feel self conscious and he too began to grab his things and put them on. He put on his robe first and then carefully readjusted his shorts underneath.

He thought before he answered again. He thought and thought. Finally, "_**That**_ is what all of the Polyjuice is for? You think _**I've**_ taken Polyjuice? Eliza...I **AM** Harry. You don't believe me?" He thought some more, "Our first breakfast together was scrambled eggs and bacon. I thought it was odd that you ate your eggs and bacon stacked on top of a muffin with red plum jam."

Eliza's eyes widened. She covered her mouth. She looked down at herself and then at Harry. She'd finished dressing as they had spoken but by the look on her face she must have felt just as naked as before. She dashed for the door. Harry, still in shock, could only watch as the door slammed behind her. Then it hit him.

She'd been Ginny. She'd used Polyjuice to _**pretend**_ to be Ginny. But why? And she'd been so willing to be with Harry. But she'd pretended to be Ginny. And she expected _**him**_ to be...


	26. TP 26 With a Shot of Humility

**Chapter 26 – ...With a Shot of Humility**

**Submitted: Sunday 1 July 2012**

**This is a short chapter. I haven't had the normal time that I give myself to proof it. I will begin writing one to two chapters again as of this week and therefore I should have another chapter by next Monday. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy. **

She'd expected him to be someone else!

Harry felt weak in the stomach as he considered the ramifications.

A loud knock brought him back to the moment. Harry opened the door only to be shoved roughly, "Who do you think you are to be upsetting my regulars?"

The wizard that stood before him was unusually strong for his size. At best, the bloke stood at eye level with Harry. All the same, Harry was taken aback. Fists clenched, the wizard looked ready to pounce, "I'm not sure what you said to Eliza but she ran out of here with tears streaming down her cheeks. So help me, if you forced yourself on her..."

"...No, it wasn't anything like that," Harry insisted. "She thought I was someone else."

"Bollocks! _**Everyone**_ here is someone else. She knows better than to assume." The bloke pulled out his wand, "What'd you do to her?"

"But..." Harry considered. He recognised the bloke. Black eyes. Just his height. Sharp nose but otherwise handsome. This was Sylvester Stallworth – the owner. Harry tried to turn the conversation with a question of his own, "What is this place?"

"You sodden fool. Don't think you can play dumb and get out of this. I brewed your potion myself." Mr. Stallworth now had his wand dangerously close to Harry's eye, "You know the rules. Each of you takes your potion and you play at what you play at but you always respect if the other wants to stop. Now what did you do?"

By now Harry had carefully pulled out his own wand so that the proprietor did not notice. Tired of the back and forth, he silently shot off a stunner that threw his opponent against the door. Harry picked up the bloke's wand and stuck it in his pocket. After binding him and making a few preparations Harry woke him with a simple spell.

"Innervate..."

The wizard blinked himself awake and immediate began to fight his bindings. Harry couldn't help but smile. They always fought the bindings at first...always for naught. Returning to the business at hand, he frowned, "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I am Harry Potter."

"But...how? No. I don't believe you. Harry would never have gotten in here." The wizard seemed pretty sure at first but began to lose faith when Harry only replied with a waiting gaze. "How did you get in here? And what are you doing harassing Eliza?"

"I came here because I was curious why a wizard would brew enough Polyjuice Potion to disguise an army of wizards."

The wizard began to speak but Harry cut him off, "Just shut up." He sighed, "It doesn't matter how I got in here. I did. I wanted to see with my own two eyes that you didn't have an army of Death Eaters hiding in here. Instead, I found Eliza pretending to be Ginny Weasley and trying to bed me because she thought that I was some bloke pretending to be Harry Potter. That got my attention." Harry gestured, "What is all of this?"

The wizard held out his wrists, "Would you at least unbind me first?"

With a whisk of his wand Harry unbound the proprietor. He then transfigured the bed and the chest into two comfortable chairs. Yet another spell Hermione had helped him refine.

Once they sat, the wizard began, "When the war ended I was forced to leave the Department of Mysteries. I didn't want to risk a trip to Azkaban if they lumped me in with the others. While I was not a direct supporter of He Who Must Not Be Named, I have been a supporter of blood purity for years. I am not as militant or angry as some but I have been rather vocal."

Harry was confused, "What does that have to do with all of this?"

"I'm a pretty fair Potions Master. Was top of my class at Hogwarts for my year. I was up for the position at Hogwarts the year Severus Snape took it. Yet, when I left the Ministry I was unemployable. All I had was a bit of gold and this house that my family left me. I knew it wouldn't last for long. Well, my mates were sitting around the fire with some Ogden's when one mentioned how brilliant it'd be if you could be with your wife but she was someone else. You can imagine how the conversation devolved from there but it planted a seed in my head."

"So you just began plucking hairs off famous people?" Harry asked in disgust.

"No! Erm, well, no...not exactly." The owner blushed, "At first it started out as a bunch of well-to-do married couples. I brewed up a few batches of potion and the husband and wife would bring a hair from another patron. I know it's poor taste. It makes me sick as well but I needed the money and you'd be shocked how quickly the groups grew. For the reputations of the couples I insisted that everyone swear on their magic to keep it a secret."

"That seems like a poor way to grow a business. How did you get new customers if you swore everyone to secrecy?" It didn't make sense.

"Just because they couldn't tell their friends what we were doing didn't mean they couldn't feel them out. When they arrived I explained what we were doing and most wanted to try. Others agreed to have their memories adjusted – mainly because they were so revolted at the thought."

"Don't you think there will be a few angry celebrities when they find out?" Harry was speaking from experience.

Sylvester pulled out a small jar of hairs from his robes. Harry couldn't see the name on the label, "I get most of these out of trade. Many celebrities have their own fantasies. For just one night with their dream witch or wizard they gladly provide me a lock of hair." The wizard frowned, "Other couples bring in their own 'samples.' I admit I've turned a blind eye to people using samples without the owners' permission. Most of the time they wait until they retire to their room to take the potion anyway. I wouldn't know whom they'd become if I'd wanted to."

"But you knew who Eliza was going to be with," Harry accused with fresh anger. "You didn't think I'd be a little upset if I found out?"

"Eliza is a family friend. Her father and I are close," Sylvester explained. "She had told me of her troubles with you so I helped her with her arrangements."

"Troubles?"

Reluctantly the wizard elaborated, "She said you were hell bent on waiting until marriage before the two of you consummated your relationship." The look on Harry's face made Sylvester wish he had his wand back, "Look, I'm not here to judge. I asked her why she wasn't just honest with you and she said it wouldn't matter. You must understand that she is a very sensual woman. She'd have been loyal to you to a fault. It saddened her to be unfaithful but she didn't want to push you. She would have left most blokes without a second thought if they'd refused."

"How long? How often?" Harry mumbled.

"Months now it seems. I'd say it was every opportunity she could get. She gets so tightly wound. I don't know what you do to her but she is like a thirsty traveller fresh out of the desert."

"How do you know?"

Now Sylvester really wished he had his wand. He knew the answer wouldn't go over well but something inside him compelled him to answer. For the first time he felt a strange feeling like no matter how much he didn't want to answer he must, "One evening her partner stood her up. It was a slow evening and she begged me. She said if she didn't she wouldn't be able to go back home to you. I wouldn't know why. Your body's nothing to write home about."

Harry blinked. Sylvester covered his mouth not believing what he'd just said. Seeing Harry tighten his grip around his wand he couldn't help but ask, "Where did you get that wand? Is it a twig? I've never seen anything like it."

One of the downsides to Veratuserum was that those drugged with it had no way to filter their thoughts. Harry was now ashamed he'd used it for something so trifling as this. He knew it was illegal to use except under certain circumstances but he'd brought it in case things had turned out much more grim. He couldn't help himself when he'd found out that Eliza and Ginny had been involved. He was beginning to regret what was obviously wrong.

"It was made in Europe," Harry said as he looked it over thoughtfully. He pulled Sylvester's wand out of his pocket and he handed it to him, "Thank you for answering my questions."

"Wait!" the proprietor pleaded, thinking Harry would walk out the door. "How did you get in here? I have anti-apparition wards and the door is secure. How did you get in?"

"What?" Harry asked with a grim smile, "I'm Harry Potter. You don't think I can apparate past a few little wards."

Before Sylvester could answer Harry was gone. He'd disappeared with a flash.

Despite the seriousness of all that had happened, Harry couldn't help but laugh at the look on Mr. Stallworth's face as he'd disappeared. He was sure the bloke would figure out that he had used a port key. It wouldn't take him long to figure out that Harry had sneaked in through the front once he'd spoken to the doorman. For now, though, he was sure the bloke believed he'd apparated in past the wards. The stories of what he had done had grown to such mythical proportions that even an off-hand sarcastic remark could be believed by those that didn't know him.

If he hadn't had so much to consider, Harry could have spent the entire evening amused at the absurdity of such things.

Harry soon sat thoughtfully in an overstuffed chair in his sitting room and considered his future. Amazingly, no-one interrupted him. He sat for what seemed like long silent hours before he'd come to a decision. Once he'd finally decided what to do, he trudged upstairs to where he was certain Eliza was.

He wasn't wrong. When he opened the door he heard a whimper. The covers were drawn tightly over a large bump on the bed that shook. Harry sat on the bed and pulled back the sheets to find the teary-eyed red-head he'd expected underneath, "Eliza?"

"I'm so sorry," Eliza hiccuped. "I..I...I didn't mean to hurt you."

Harry sat there thoughtfully. He knew what he wanted to say but he didn't know how to say it, "You lied to me."

The look of hurt that washed over her made him instantly regret his words. That wasn't what he wanted to say. He wanted to say that it was all right and that he almost understood.

She became defensive, "I never lied. I just didn't tell you where I'd been off to. I did it for you."

"You did it for me? You cheated on me_** for**_ me?" Harry asked astonished. While he didn't shout his voice certainly rose, "I cannot wait to hear this. Please explain how you cheated _**for**_ me."

Anger overtook him. He almost understood the whole thing...but for her to try to make it out as a favour to him? He could feel the room warm up around him. His hands were balled up so tightly into fists that that he could feel the pinch from his nails into his palms.

Her eyes sprung fresh tears, "You wanted to wait and I just _**couldn't**_. I tried but I'm not made like that. I told you that from the beginning. It got to the point where I couldn't function. You have no idea. Then one day I was told that I could be with you..." The look he shot her made her stop. She reconsidered her words, "Well, not with you...but yes...with you. It's complicated. But in my mind it was with _**you**_. I never wanted to be with anyone else but you _**made**_ me do it."

"I _**made**_ you?" That was certainly a shout. Harry made a conscious effort to quiet himself down, "I didn't _**make**_ you do anything. You chose to do this. You could have waited. In a year I was going to ask you to marry me."

"In a **_year_**?" Her voice was shrill. Sitting up, her hair was tangled and twisted like that of a madwoman. She was no longer apologetic, "I don't know how you bottle it up! I swear that I've never met a bloke before you that could go more than a night without begging me...but no, not you! Not Harry _**Bleeding**_ Potter! And, to top it off, you are such a hypocrite!"

Harry didn't say a word but his face invited her to elaborate, "I was with wizards that pretended to be you because I wanted so desperately to be with _**you**_! While it may not have been right it wasn't nearly as wrong as what you did!" She huffed desperately to regain her breath as she carefully considered her next question, "Tell me, Harry. If I hadn't transformed back into myself, would you have stopped yourself? You would have shagged me if I was Ginny, wouldn't you?"

Eliza was a mess. Her arms flailed and her gown had even torn as she'd thrown herself around angrily. Harry tried to think of something to say to calm her down, "I think we should end this." Erm, that wasn't it.

"What?" Now she was standing imperiously over him, "You'd rather break up with me rather than answer my question? You aren't just a hypocrite! You're a bloody coward!" With that, she slapped him so hard and so unexpectedly that he fell back onto the bed. Not quite knocked out cold, he lie there helpless as she gathered a few of her things. As he sat up and shook his head she opened the door to leave. Her last words were, "As Merlin is my witness, if **_I'm_** not your first then _**no-one** _will be!"


	27. TP 27 And a Dash of Admonishment

**Chapter 27 – And a Dash of Admonishment**

**Submitted Thursday 11 July 2012**

****Please stop and write what you think about the past three chapters as a whole once you finish the chapter. It would mean the world to me. ****

"She said she visited regularly?" asked Hermione.

"No, the owner did. A bloke named Stallworth." Hermione could see the pain in Harry's eyes as he recounted, "She confirmed though. She even admitted she did it as often as she could because our close contact made her 'tense.' She said that all the close contact made it so she couldn't function. She needed an outlet."

Ron snorted, "So she makes off with a few pieces of your hair and finds a few wizards to get off with? That's rich. So, how did you find out?"

Hermione noticed a Harry shoot a guilty glance toward Ron followed by silence. She did her best to change the subject, "I'm so sorry, Harry. I should have seen it sooner. I was so happy to have a witch whom I got on well with that I ignored the signs."

"That she was barking mad?" asked Ron unhelpfully.

"Yes, Ron..." Hermione answered with a glare. "That she was barking mad."

Her attention returned to Harry, "We all should have noticed sooner. She was like Ginny that first year times ten. I blew it off as her treating you well but often when you weren't looking she'd stare at you as if she worshipped you. I had other people mention it to me but I always just assumed she'd grow out of it like Ginny."

Harry finally looked up, "Others said things? How come I never noticed?"

Ron finally replied with something helpful, "Mate, she wasn't your normal bird. Half the wizards of England would have happily let her worship them. She was absolutely stunning and loads of fun. She always knew just what to say to get you out of your moods. If you hadn't of found out about this whole business with the Polyjuice would you have _**ever**_ even noticed?"

Harry replied as much to himself as to his mates as he thought aloud, "She said I should avoid that house at all cost. I wonder if that's what she meant."

"What?" Ron asked. Hermione understood who Harry was speaking of but held her tongue.

"I was told I shouldn't go in there. In fact, I all but promised I'd leave the whole Polyjuice business alone."

Ron didn't quite catch on, "That's right. I remember the Robards saying as much."

The room grew stuffy with silence. Hermione could tell that Harry was holding something back and his occasional guilty glances towards Ron told her that he was worried something he'd say would upset Ron. She wondered if Ron was really so thick when it came to noticing such things or if he intentionally turned a blind eye for his mate's sake.

Ron finished his Butterbeer and stood up, "Sorry, mate. I promised Neville I'd help Hannah close the Cauldron this week. He's out in the wilderness again gathering fresh herbs and he's still afraid to leave Hannah there alone."

Harry brushed off Ron's concern with the sweep of a hand, "No. That's much more important. I know Neville appreciates your help. I only wish..."

"...Yeah, same here. It's not the same without them around. And I miss having us all out at the Cauldron after a long day. You two really need to patch things up." Ron kissed his girlfriend, "You take care of my mate while I'm gone."

"I will," she promised with a smile. "Send Hannah my love."

Not a moment after the Floo flashed green, Hermione became more serious, "What were you hiding from Ron?"

"What?"

"Don't you _**what**_ me," she replied sternly. "You looked less guilty the night you first snogged his sister than you did this evening."

"I don't know what you mean." Harry tried to change the subject, "Have you been to the Cottage to see Winky's babies yet? I still can't believe she had twins."

Harry gave up when she crossed her arms. She could perform a pretty good Mrs. Weasley imitation when properly provoked. Rather than wondering whether this imitation was intentional or not, Harry dutifully told the entire story of how he found out Eliza was cheating on him.

"You thought she was Ginny?"

Harry nodded, "I don't know how she was able to get a potion made for Ginny, though. I forgot to ask the bloke that owns the place."

"There's a good chance it was from your own room." Hermione winced, "She came to me one afternoon a few months back with a hairbrush and asked if it belonged to Ginny. I thought she was asking me if I thought it was ok to toss it. I'm sorry, Harry, I advised her that it might be a good idea to get rid of any reminders of Ginny in the interest of fewer arguments down the road. I assumed Ginny would never miss them."

Hermione must have expected him to blow up for this. She held her breath until he shrugged, "You couldn't of known. It was sound advice."

"Why did you even go into that place? You told me months ago that Lavender had warned you against it." They'd stopped calling Lavender 'Hecate' when others weren't around.

"It was the only lead I had. After what happened at the Cauldron I couldn't ignore it. The wizards that attacked Hannah had used Polyjuice. I would have been devastated if I'd found out I could have stopped these attacks but turned a blind eye out of fear of some vision that Lavender had."

"What exactly did Lavender tell you when she warned you?" Hermione looked worried.

"I don't remember exactly. She said it would be very bad. I need to go see her again. She's going to kill me."

"Has she ever been wrong?"

Harry shrugged. His eyes said what he wouldn't.

Hermione pulled herself together, "If it's all that bad then it couldn't be Eliza that she's worried about. Maybe there was something there but you avoided it? Maybe you got lucky."

"Something tells me it does have something to do with Eliza," Harry admitted. "Before last night I was determined that I should marry Eliza. She made me happy and showered me with so much affection that I decided she could have enough love for both of us."

Now Harry's voice quieted as if he was admitting a secret that he didn't even want himself to know, "But when I saw Ginny...all of those feelings I'd buried came back. I wanted to forget about Eliza. I didn't want her to exist. If she did then I'd have to break up with her and I knew it would devastate her. I didn't care though. Ginny was right there in my arms and she wanted me back. I felt complete for the first time in forever. All I wanted to do was kiss her and hold her."

Hermione's heart broke for Harry, "But it wasn't her."

"It wasn't her," Harry sighed.

"Maybe Lavender was wrong. Maybe this is good. Could you have married a witch that had been so deceitful? She was obsessed with you, Harry."

The pain on Harry's face was unmistakeable, "I could have gone through my entire life happy with Eliza had I not been in Ginny's arms. I could have married Eliza and had children. We could have grown old happily together."

"She was mad, Harry."

"We're all a little mad, Hermione. I'm worse than her and I can't even admit it to her. I let her think this is all about what she did but it's not her fault at all. Do you know why I broke things off? Because when I kissed her as Ginny I knew I'd would never feel one bit of the passion and love for Eliza as I did at that moment."

"So you think Lavender's warning had to do with Eliza and nothing else?"

"I don't know, Hermione. I don't know."

"Then you need to find out."

* * *

><p>The next morning came way too early for Harry. He and Hermione had stayed up nearly the entire night talking. He opened up to her about his dreams and fears more that night than ever before. He told her about the things he'd thought about while walking the forest his last year at Hogwarts. They talked about his conversations with the Oracle at Delphi and at the end he even admitted that he feared he'd never be able to trust anyone enough to share his secret fears. His admission was met with a laugh.<p>

"What are you laughing about?" he asked, feeling betrayed.

"You just told me about all of your fears. Unless you are holding something back I think you've taken a pretty big step."

Harry was thinking hard on this when he trudged into the Auror offices early that morning. He didn't expect Ewan to be waiting for him, "Thank goodness you came in early. I was about to send an owl out after you."

"What for?" Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Robards has a visitor. He wants you in his office. Now." Ewan's grim look told Harry all that he needed to know.

Within minutes he was sitting in the sparsely decorated office of the Head Auror. Robards sat behind his desk with a polite smile that only the Aurors knew was his most menacing. Robards never bared his teeth unless he was putting on an act. Usually the more teeth he showed, the more angry he was. Today Harry could plainly see the Chief's gums.

Beside Harry sat Sylvestor Stallworth...the man whom Harry had fed Veratuserum two evenings before after breaking into his home and 'establishment.' The wizard sat with his legs crossed and both hands on his knee. His arms were tucked in tight to his body and his gaze darted uncomfortably between the two Aurors while trying to avoid eye contact.

After a few pleasantries, Robards got to it, "Mr. Stallworth has informed me that you have found a way to apparate past anti-apparition charms."

Harry must have shown the proper amount of shock because the Head Auror's smile disappeared and he became very serious, "You can imagine my surprise when he informed me that you apparated directly into his home past his wards. I told him it was impossible – that no-one could apparate past a properly cast anti-apparition charm. Aside from that important detail, I informed that I had forbade you to ever enter his home without his permission." Robards paused before asking, "I did forbid you to enter his home, did I not?"

"Yes, you did," Harry answered quietly.

"Do you remember why I asked you not to visit his home, Harry?" Robards didn't even bother to use Harry's last name in front of his guest.

"Yes."

"Why would you possibly disregard a direct order from me Harry?" The question was asked with equal parts curiosity, anger and shame.

Harry's answer was emotionless. He felt like a small child, "One of my mates was attacked recently. The wizards had used Polyjuice potion. Mr. Stallworth was known to brew Polyjuice Potion and I had to know if he was responsible. I'd tried for months to figure out what he was using to potions for and I had to know."

"So you had to break into his home to find out? After I expressly asked you not to? You had so little respect for my judgement that you didn't even bother to ask me to consider the new information?" Robards was gaining a full head of steam. His face quickly turned a shade of purple Harry'd only seen on his Uncle Dursley, "I accepted you as an Auror despite the rumours that came out of Hogwarts. Disregard for the rules, little respect for authority, unwilling to accept criticism...until now you've proved them wrong. But now –"

The Head Auror seemed like he expected Harry to interrupt or at least explain himself but he was met only by silence. He rumbled on.

"We serve. We protect. Our citizens allowed us a great amount of latitude because we were fighting a war. But Harry, if we allow my Aurors to enter a home without good reason and without some kind of process then we are no better than Voldemort or any other dark wizard. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. He knew the Head Auror was right but his anger overcame him, "But I tried to tell you. You wouldn't listen."

"I listened," Robards answered back. "But unlike you, I knew what was inside. It is my prerogative to tell you or not tell you what I wish. I owe you no explanations. If I say, 'leave this wizard alone' then you do as I ask without question."

"Did you know that what he was doing inside is illegal?" Harry asked. This made the wizard sitting next to him shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"Morally questionable? Yes. Unethical? Maybe. Illegal? No." Robards seemed very sure.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Still decidedly uncomfortable, Stallworth spoke for the first time, "May I speak to Auror Potter alone, please?"

Obviously emotionally spent, the Head Auror shrugged. Once he'd left, the wizard turned to Harry. He looked very tired. "I feel like a young boy who's told on a schoolmate. I didn't mean to cause this much trouble. I had to know, though, if you planned on making my arrangement public."

"Honestly, I hadn't thought about it until now. I've had a few unexpected decisions to make at home."

"I imagine so," answered the wizard. "I was worried that your personal concerns might cloud your professional judgement."

"Have you spoken to her?" Harry asked.

"She is split between boiling you in oil and burning you at the stake," Sylvester answered in a way that didn't invite further questions.

Harry shrugged and returned to the original discussion, "You know what you are doing is wrong."

"I wrestle with it every day. But everyone involved is a willing participant."

"How about those that have unknowingly...I don't even know how to describe it," Harry lamented.

"Those who unknowingly provide their likenesses for others entertainment?" Mr. Stallworth asked. "I swear on my honour that I will find a way to make sure that doesn't continue to happen."

Harry reluctantly agreed to Sylvester's request to keep what he knew to himself and Hermione...who'd already learned a fair amount. This, of course, did nothing to curb the Head Auror's anger. Gawain Robards felt inclined to make an example of Harry. While Harry spoke with Sylvestor Stallworth, Head Auror Gawain Robards spoke privately with Minister Shacklebolt. The Minister laughed internally at the frenzy that Harry had gotten the Head Auror worked into.

Gawain had always been intense as an Auror under Shacklebolt's tutelage. Auror Robards had a difficult time managing his temper as a Trainee and Shacklebolt had taken great pride in the fact that he'd smoothed the rough edges on this once young wizard. The young Auror had been the one to permanently scar the cheek of the younger Mulciber after the Death Eater had taken certain uninvited liberties with a young half-blood wench who'd served Butterbeer at a pub near Liverpool in the early Eighties.

Now a normally level-headed Gawain was spitting and spewing he was so angry at Harry, "He should be sacked! The bloody fool blatantly disregarded my instructions!"

The Minister knew it would only anger Robards more if he forbade the Head Auror to sack the Golden Boy. Shacklebolt would feel very much like Gawain if he were in his position. Bluffing, the Minister offered, "Then sack him."

"Really?" For the first time Robards smiled. He rubbed his hands together eagerly...taking on the look of an evil genius who's plan had finally come together. Then reality set in, "I can't sack him. I'd have to explain why I sacked him. We've just gotten over all of the bad publicity. And I'd have to explain what I forbade him to do."

The Minister smiled, "What did you forbid him to do?"

This caused Robards to frown. He continued to rub his hands together but now it was out of worry, "I can't tell you. It's an internal matter. You understand..."

The Minister did understand. He didn't know what personal favour the Head Auror had agreed to but he was familiar with the look. Shacklebolt had also been forced to pay out favours to friends or as debts for aid in previous investigations. It was part of the job to make a judgement call as to whether a particular rule should be overlooked for the greater good. "Yes, I understand. Perhaps it would be better to suspend him? He is a fair Auror for the most part and his efficiency is unquestioned."

Again Robards smiled, "Yes, suspension without pay...a month shouldn't raise too many eyebrows."

Again Shacklebolt laughed to himself. No pay for Harry...that one made Shacklebolt chuckle out loud. He tried to remember if he'd ever gotten so upset with an underling that he'd been so petty. All the same, he was sure that a month away from the Ministry would be a welcome break for Harry. His mind wandered as Gawain rambled on about how he appreciated the Minister's understanding. Shacklebolt was busy wondering what it would take to get suspended for a month himself...with or without pay.

The Minister decided that Harry was one lucky bloke.

* * *

><p>"You promised me!"<p>

"I wouldn't have gone if there weren't a very good reason," Harry answered defensively.

"Bollocks!" Lavender shouted. "You and your bloody curiosity. That and your bloody hero complex are going to kill you dead!"

Harry felt a chill. He decided he'd had enough doom and gloom, "How did you know?"

Harry hadn't told her what he'd done. She scowled at him the moment she'd answered the door and had admonished him before he'd opened his mouth.

"The same way I always know. This time I had a dream. I've known it was a possibility for a while. From the time you went to Hannah's aid I knew it was likely you'd go despite your promises." Hannah looked sad, "You only have one more chance, Harry. You could have been happy."

This was too much for the young wizard, "Happy? With Eliza? She's insane. Aside from the fact that she's obsessed with me? She cheated."

"You'd have never known had you not gone into that house," Lavender reminded him. "Once you'd been married she would have been faithful to you the rest of your days. You'd have had beautiful children and you'd have become Headmaster at Hogwarts. She'd have made it her goal in life to make you happy in every way she could."

"But I wouldn't have loved her..." Harry argued.

"You'd have never noticed," Lavender answered without blinking. She stood toe to toe with Harry and refused to back down, "She only cared that you returned to her every evening. So what if she was a little off?"

"You warned me against witches that would want me only for my celebrity. Do you remember?" Harry asked.

"All I'm saying, Harry, is that you blew an opportunity at a happy future. You could have had everything that a wizard wants."

"Except love," Harry answered.

Lavender sighed, "Soon, Harry, you will have a choice between a possibility of love or certain happiness without love. It will be the most difficult decision that you will have to make. Either decision will come at a great cost. I hope you choose well."

"You know the path I _should_ take?" Harry could see it in her eyes.

"Yes, but if I do more than offer small hints then it will end badly. The more I interfere, the worse things will be. You've now entered a time of your life where my advice will only hurt you. It won't stop you, though, from asking. Eventually, the uncertainty of it all will cause you to hurt those that you care about. You will be driven as mad as Eliza has ever been."

Harry frowned, "What do you mean?"

"You will see."


	28. TP 28 Elixir of the Siren Song

**Chapter 28 – Elixir of the Siren Song**

**Submitted: Monday 16 July 2012**

Hermione stirred the cauldron clockwise precisely three times, "Remember, this will only serve as a temporary solution and there are several actions that will break the spell. Once it's broken, it will not work again."

"Yes, Hermione, I understand," Lavender acknowledged in her most exasperated tone. "You've explained this at least a dozen times."

"Then you know that if any bloke so much as falls asleep in your bed then the spell is broken," Hermione answered without regard for Lavender's frustration.

"Yes, Hermione." Lavender began to count the rules off on her fingers, "I cannot have a wizard fall asleep in my bed. I cannot leave anything in his home that would imply that I live with him. I cannot accept any gifts implying that we have entered into a relationship. Basically, if I do anything or accept anything that implies that some bloke and I are more serious than lovers then the deal is off permanently. What kind of sadist came up with this spell, anyhow?"

"Good question," Hermione answered as she skilfully added a dram of Venus Powder. "I imagine that's why they call it the Elixir of the Siren Song. But it was the only thing that seemed to be able to do the trick."

"Seems more like torture than a solution," Lavender complained. "It only works when there is a New Moon?"

"I'm sorry. If there was anything better I would do it. I'm not even sure _**this**_ will work." Hermione tried to lighten the mood, "but I think it's a bit ironic that one of the ingredients to make our little Lavender pretty again is lavender oil." Indeed, the night before Hermione and Neville had fashioned the Venus Powder out of an old recipe of equal parts rose oil, lavender oil, violet oil and musk oil. These were added to pink talc.

He'd farmed each of the ingredients himself for the Venus Powder and Elixir to insure purity and freshness. She'd promised Neville not to say a word to Harry for his role as he was afraid Harry would insist on dropping in on Hannah during his trips to the wilderness. In fact, Harry had no knowledge that they were even experimenting with the potion as there were risks. If the potion wasn't prepared exactly right then there was a chance that she could permanently fade until she was invisible or even die. Lavender understood these risks and secretly she even welcomed them.

Petals of jasmine and lotus were stirred into the cauldron as Hermione began a chant. Lavender couldn't be sure of the language but she noticed that Hermione was reading it more than saying it from rote memory. She also noticed that the Elixir began to glow like moonlight. When Hermione finished stirring she raised the cauldron a little from the fire and sat at a table nearby, "It'll be done in a half hour or so. I've raised it off the fire a little so it will slowly simmer. All that's left now is to reduce it down a little. When it's done there should be just enough for one draught. It'll go down a little thick but if I made it right then it should taste sweet like honey."

"I appreciate you doing this. You've gone to a lot of trouble for me. Both you and Harry."

"You've done a lot for us, too, Lavender."

"I still prefer to go by Hecate. At least while I look like this." Lavender gestured to herself and the look on her face would never be mistaken for anything less than disgust.

"Sorry."

"How long until I know it worked?" Lavender now looked excited. Though she'd protested throughout their efforts to bring her back to her old self, Hermione had always known that Lavender secretly wished they'd succeed. Hermione would have given up months ago on all of this if she didn't know how important it was to the young witch. Lavender identified with her appearance as closely as Hermione identified with her intelligence. Hermione couldn't imagine she'd be able to go on living if suddenly she were not able to remember a simple spell. In fact, one of her secret fears was that as she got on in years that she began to suffer from dementia or Alzheimer's.

She noticed that Lavender was staring at her in anticipation. She'd gotten lost in her thoughts and never answered the question, "We won't know for sure until the New Moon tomorrow night."

"Will I look like me...or..?"

"Imagine what you looked like on your most beautiful day and multiply it by ten. The spell was originally devised by an angry and jealous witch who wished to make her ex-boyfriend jealous. Steadily you will become more plain during the other twenty-six days because the spell works by taking beauty from you during the remainder of the month and using it to make you more beautiful during those nights when the moon 'slumbers.' The witch who devised the spell was so obsessed that she was willing to become hideous as time went on just to make an ex-lover jealous those two nights a month."

"Did it work?"

"According to the story it worked until he found where she lived. He sought her out to beg her to take him back. When he arrived at the door he couldn't believe it was her. At first he laughed."

Lavender couldn't help but ask, "At first."

"It's not wise to laugh at a madwoman that carries a dagger."

This caused both witches to giggle. While killing someone was a serious subject, there wasn't a witch alive who hadn't at least stared daggers at some wizard who'd laughed at them or made fun of their looks. In many cases, if those witches had carried actual daggers there'd be fewer wizards walking the Earth.

After a few minutes of quiet, Hermione got up and checked on the Elixir. It was about half done. "Lav...Hecate, has Harry been by to ask about Eliza?"

Lavender looked very uncomfortable.

"I need to know. Was it as bad as you foretold? More important, what was it so bad?"

"I don't know if I should speak about this with you, Hermione."

"He's my mate, too. If there's anything I can do..."

Lavender considered. She really wished she had someone she could talk about this with. Harry was no longer her only client. She now did readings for many of the staff at Hogwarts and even a few at the Ministry. Her reputation had grown...in part because of kind words that Harry had provided for her and she made a fair living by meeting her customers in a hooded cloak and masking her voice with a charm when she spoke. Even so, her visions of Harry were the only ones that would wake her at night.

"Please." Hermione's voice was both insistent and pleading. "Harry has told me about what happened with Eliza at that place. You told him before that it would be very bad if he went there. What he described wasn't all that bad. What happened?"

Lavender glanced at the cauldron hopefully. If only that Elixir would finish brewing so that they could get off this subject. Hermione must have noticed, "It'll still be a while yet. Tell me what's going on. Harry isn't sleeping. His suspension has ended at the Ministry and he refuses to return. I'm his mate need to know what I'm dealing with."

"You can tell him none of this. As it is, I may change his lot just by saying something to you. But, the way he's acting he may muss it all up himself." Lavender gathered a breath, "Harry blew his chance to be the happiest he ever could in life."

"With Eliza?" Hermione snorted when she laughed and coughed on a bit of tea that went down the wrong way, "She's barking mad. How could he possibly have been happy with her?"

"You have no idea. Eliza understood Harry. She may be obsessed with him but somehow it worked. It was an unhealthy relationship by many standards but they gave each other what they needed."

"Well, Harry wasn't giving her what she needed or..." Hermione bit her lip. Lavender obviously didn't find her attempt at humour funny at all. It was much more like Ron than her to say such a thing anyhow.

"Maybe if you see what he missed out on you will understand." Lavender pulled out her wand and stood up. She walked over to a large cabinet and tapped on it while whispering something Hermione couldn't hear. The cabinet opened to reveal a small pensieve and several marked vials that were filled with silvery glistening liquids that Hermione recognised as memories. The only other place Hermione had seen one of these was when she'd visited the Auror offices with Ron. She'd heard stories from Harry about the one in the Headmaster's Office.

Lavender placed the wand at her temple and drew out a fresh silvery memory with her wand, "You really should get one of these. It's become absolutely necessary with what I do."

The memory, instead of being placed in a vial, was dragged directly into the pensieve. Lavender used her wand to swirl it around as if she were mixing batter for a cake, "Come here and take a look at this."

"What is it?" Hermione asked. When Lavender refused to answer she stood up and reluctantly did as she was asked. The swirling pool of liquid made her squeamish but after a few seconds staring at it she lowered a head to get a look.

At first she felt herself falling much like she had at the end of dreams. Without warning she was sitting in a large well-furnished room on a couch next to Lavender. It was strange because Lavender didn't seem like she fit in here any more than Hermione did. All the same, Lavender was her young beautiful self from before the Battle.

"What are we looking at?" Hermione whispered to Lavender. She didn't answer. In fact, Lavender didn't seem to even notice her and instead seemed to stare intently at the image before them.

Eliza sat in a chair opposite them...ignoring them both while reading a copy of Witch Weekly. She was at least ten to twenty years older but still strikingly beautiful. The older witch took a sip of tea and nearly spilled it when a young boy shot between all of them and made for a door, "Harold Sirius Potter! What are you doing?"

"Ruunnning!" called out the boy whimsically as he reached the door. "Albie and Ronnie are chaissssin' me! Ellie's threat'nd ter make me balded" He let out a maniacal little giggle as he disappeared behind the door.

Moments later two boys and a girl carefully popped in. All three tried to act nonchalant but a certain uncomfortable shuffle gave them away. "Mum, have you seen Harry?" asked the oldest boy.

"What are you lot up to?" asked a suspicious Eliza. "You never come downstairs after dark except for dinner. Where's the nanny? And where's your older brother and sister?"

The three looked at each other carefully as if deciding who would speak and what they were willing to divulge. Finally the oldest one answered while still shuffling his feet, "Erm, the nanny's a bit tied up at the moment. Lily an' Jamie are packing their chests for tomorrow."

"Right. Well, Harry went that way," Eliza pointed before returning to her magazine. She looked up just before they cleared the door, remembering something. "And Ellie, don't you dare touch one hair on that boy's head!" she called out.

"Arright!" she heard Ellie call out as the door closed. Seemingly content she'd done her part to avert a catastrophe she returned to her article. It wasn't a few seconds, though, before she looked up and the words "Tied up?" escaped her lips. She threw her magazine down and ran out of the room at top speed.

Hermione was at a loss. She nudged Lavender but the witch just sat next to her oblivious to her existence. The young witch looked around the room interested in everything about it. Hermione seemed to notice what Lavender noticed. The sitting room included a portrait which included Harry, Eliza and six children. All of them looked happy. Harry wore the robes of a Hogwarts Headmaster. Eliza, even in the portrait, seemed to look at Harry out of the corner of her eye with a sense of worship that Hermione had all but ignored until the tiff a few months ago.

Hermione jumped when the fireplace directly below the portrait erupted in a green flash. Stepping from the smoke was a most amazing sight. This Harry Potter was a force to be reckoned with, Hermione was sure. He was always more trim than muscular and now was no exception. It was his eyes that gave him away, though – witches always gotten lost in those emerald eyes – but now even the kind crinkles around them displayed a quiet power that burned within.

Immediately Winky appeared with a 'Crack!' that startled Hermione but barely drew the notice of Harry. He smiled his boyish smile and asked in his most pleasant voice, "Where's my beautiful wife, Dear?"

"Misses Eliza is coming. Misses was untying me when you arrived. She's on her way down," the elf explained.

"Winky! You are using pronouns! Excellent!" This seemed to excite Harry. "Did little Harry get a hold of you again?"

The elf nodded with a foolish grin, "Master MacGreggor has been teaching him spells. He taught him a binding spell. It came unexpectedly."

"His grandfather? Again? Where did the boy get the wand?" asked a worried Harry.

"The little one doesn't have a wand," Winky answered...almost as if with pride. "It's our secret." Winky immediately placed a hand over her mouth realising she'd shared a confidence.

"What?" Harry was genuinely shocked. He obviously wanted to continue the line of questioning but his wife popped in. Immediately she ran into his arms and overwhelmed him with kisses and hugs.

"Whoah! Dear!" Harry announced good naturedly. "What did I do to deserve that?"

"The same thing you do every night. You came home!" This was followed by a particularly passionate kiss and an invitation, "How would you like Winky to take care of the kids while I remind you why you married me?"

Harry chuckled, "There's no need for that. I already know why I married you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Eliza placed her hands firmly on her hips, "Are you turning me down?"

Pulling her into to him, he laughed, "Oh, no. I said I didn't need a reminder. I have no intention of taking the chance that I might forget."

She melted in his arms as he kissed her soundly. Hermione sat there open-mouthed. This was a side of Harry she had never seen. Even with Ginny he'd never been this confident or take charge. In fact, she'd always been the one to initiate any kind of affection. It was like Harry was a different person.

"Winky, my wife intends on us having a little time to ourselves. Would you be terribly put out if we asked you to distract the children for an hour or so? Just enough time to get reacquainted?" Hermione couldn't help but gawk at the new Harry. It was as if he had a whole new level of comfort with himself. Even Winky seemed to melt when she answered him, "It would please Winky very much. Winky loves her little Harry."

Eliza laughed, "Then you may want to track the poor little bugger down. Little Ellie took it personal that he bound you up and apparently she has plans to shave his head."

Winky giggled from behind her hand and it sounded like the tinkling of glass, "Ellie will never catch little Harry. Little Harry is as crafty as Master Teddy and hides better than little Victoree." She closed her eyes and seemed to concentrate. After a few brief moments she opened them, seemingly satisfied, "I shall fetch my little Harry and make sure he is clean for dinner."

"Excellent, we shall see you then." Before Harry walked out with his wife in his arms he stopped, "And Winky...Thanks."

Again came the sound of tinkling followed by a quiet "Crack!" Harry wrapped his arm around his wife and they walked out of the room. Hermione sat there dumbly, not knowing what to do next, until she realised that Lavender had stood up and began to walk out of the room...seemingly following Harry and his wife. She walked rigidly and awkwardly as if in a trance. At first Hermione had no intention of following until she noticed the room start to fade to black around her. Not to be left in a world of nothingness she ran out of the room and followed closely behind the witch. It seemed so strange to see Lavender as her young self. She wondered how Lavender altered her appearance in the pensieve.

They came upon a door. Rather than open it, Lavender walked right through it. Hermione was reluctant at first but decided to take the chance as she noticed the blackness approaching from the end of the corridor.

"I spoke to the people at Witch Weekly," Eliza was saying loudly. "You will have no more trouble with that writer."

"You didn't have to do that," Harry protested in a muffled voice from the bath. "You don't need to fight my battles."

As he walked out she stole a quick kiss, "No dear, I don't, but I will not have some little weasel try to make up rubbish about my husband because he's too lazy to perform actual journalism. Conjuring is fine at birthday parties and alchemist conventions but I will not have it from one who deals in facts."

"Well, thank you, Love. I dare say that I'd regret it very much if I was a writer who'd stepped on your toes."

Eliza smiled mischievously, "If you were a writer at all you'd get none of this."

Hermione gasped and wished with all her might that she was no longer seeing what she was seeing. This must have activated something within the pensieve because she suddenly felt herself being sucked away. She had trouble breathing as it felt she were pulled through a very thin tube almost like using a portkey. Then, with a shake of the head she was standing beside Lavender in the witch's cottage and the cauldron was once again bubbling not far away.

"Did you see the whole thing?" Lavender looked worried.

"I don't know. They were in their room and they were talking. I saw something I felt I shouldn't and I must have forced myself back here." The face Hermione made was of discomfort.

"I wish I could have left like that," Lavender admitted, "I had to watch the whole thing."

"Really?" Hermione was shocked, "You couldn't just untrance yourself?"

"Of course I could. But I needed to know as much as I could."

Hermione thought she heard wrong. She couldn't stop laughing when she saw the twinkle in Lavender's eyes.

Once she checked the cauldron they spoke for a while on what she had seen. Lavender answered a few questions, "As far as I know, she never used the potion after they married."

"Harry never struck me as wanting to be Headmaster."

Lavender agreed, "Eliza manoeuvred him into the Headmaster job only because he refused to be Minister – in fact he was the youngest to ever accept the position – it was part of her mania and a fantasy of hers that he be extremely important and successful."

"Didn't he ever notice that she was mad?"

"No, you of all people know how loyal Harry is. You once argued with him for a week because he told you Eliza felt it inappropriate for you two to hug too closely." Lavender giggled, "He finally convinced you by confessing that he had dreams of you and him. It's one of the few times I ever heard him lie intentionally."

"That Bugger...what were the kids names again?"

"The children were James Remus, Lily Evans, Elizabeth Emily, Ronald Neville, Albus Severus and Harold Sirius – Harry initially wanted Elizabeth to be named Hermione Nymphadora but you soundly refused and Eliza nearly had kittens. She also balked at Ronald Frederick...which was probably proper because the only member of that family that closely resembled Fred was little Harry."

Hermione forced a sad smile, "It sounds as if I would have adored little Harry."

"Bwahahaha!" Lavender almost fell out of her seat, "Until his Seventh Year! As his final prank he convinced the House Elves at Hogwarts to paint themselves green and stage a fake Martian Landing on a property adjacent to Malfoy Manor. He forewarned several fraud Muggle psychics who foretold the whole thing in the rags across England and Europe and the Muggles showed up with moving cameras and everything! The Malfoys had helicopters, scientists and Scotland Yard snooping around near their Manor House for an entire month!"

"How did he not lose his wand over that?" Hermione was shocked.

"He made it so that the whole device disappeared right in front of the cameras. The elves had disapparated and no-one could prove who they belonged to. In fact, the only person that figured out the whole mess was you. That was the day you threatened to snap the poor boy's neck if he ever exposed magic or put another House Elf in harms way again. You were his favourite person in the whole world – he had a secret crush on you – and that threat cleaned him up for good."

"That's amazing."

It wasn't long before the elixir was ready and Hermione poured it into a large tankard she had brought for the occasion. She let it cool to the proper temperature and when it was just right she handed it to Lavender. The witch took the tankard and drained it with one long drink. Hermione had to mind her manners because the sight of an old crone guzzling a huge container of what looked like ale and licking the froth off her upper lip was just the thing that forced people to stare. Lavender lived that moment like a stereotype as her eyes got bulgy big and she even gasped with a big "Ahhhh..." saying "that hit the spot."

And then it was back to Harry. Hermione couldn't help but barrage Lavender with more questions about lovable little Harry, "He performed wandless magic on purpose?"

While cleaning the tankard by hand Lavender explained, "He was five or six that day. And yes, he was performing wandless magic. I am not sure how but Eliza and Harry magically resonated when it came to children. All of the children could perform wonderful magic but Harold Sirius Potter was the most powerful of all. He perform a full Patronus by age thirteen."

"So could Harry."

"His son could do it without a wand..."

Hermione stood frozen with mouth open. She didn't know of anyone, even Dumbledore, who'd performed such a spell without a wand. Of course, she didn't know that Dumbledore _**couldn't**_ do it either. Even so, it was unlikely at that age. "I suppose that is impressive."

"You thought so," admitted Lavender. "You became his mentor. The two of you created some amazing things after he settled down. Things you will now need to create on your own."

"Like?" Hermione was fishing around.

"You know what I'm talking about. I don't have to hide it from you. You are already sure it will work. It's just a matter of time that you will figure out how."

Miss Granger considered for a second, "I thought you weren't allowed to tell people directly about their futures. Otherwise it may change them?"

The crone smiled a crooked smile, "I dreamt telling you last night. In the dream I told you that your discovery would work and it still did. I think that's reason enough not to worry."

"How about our search for the relic? Will that work?" Hermione looked hopeful.

"I can't give away all of tomorrow's secrets, now can I? If I did then tomorrow wouldn't be worth living. As for the potion, I believe it will work."

That made sense. She still wondered about one thing, "So what happens now? You know, with Harry?"

"He had two solid opportunities at a happy life. I once read in this novel the most interesting thing and it certainly holds true. I can't quite remember the title. Somebody named Anastasio or something or other wrote it. 'Chance and choice are the bedfellows of fate. You cannot have chance without choice or choice without chance.' Harry's already ignored my warnings once and has ruined one of his chances at a happy life. If he chooses wrong again then chance will deal him some very serious challenges to overcome.'"

Hermione couldn't help but ask, "Then what does he need to do now?"

"I can't share any more at the moment. We all have our roles in the future. For some reason, the one person's future I cannot predict is my own. If I begin interfering too much then I can change events all on my own. If I serve as any more than an occasional guide then it tends to make things very much worse."

They sat and had more tea. Finally Hermione succumbed to temptation, "Would you mind looking a little into my future?"

"Of course I'll perform a reading for you."

The cards were quickly pulled out and Lavender drew them in the shape of the Celtic Cross. As she turned the cards she'd alternate between smiles and small grunts. Finally she asked, "Have you told Ron yet?"

"About what?" Hermione asked, confused.

"About the baby!" Lavender frowned, "I'm a bleeding psychic, Hermione. You don't think I'm going to notice the small matter of a baby?"

"I have no idea what you are speaking about."

"You didn't know?" Lavender jumped up and wrapped her arms around Hermione, "You are going to have a beautiful baby, Hermione. You are having a baby!"

But then Lavender became very serious. She looked at the last card, "Hermione, whatever you do, you must make sure that Ginny does not find out about that baby."

"Why?"

Lavender thought very hard. She thought and thought until she was sure, "Hermione, you don't need to worry about why. Whatever you do, you make dead sure that Ginny does not hear about that baby until after it is born. Do you promise?"

Hermione was still getting used to the idea she might be pregnant. She stuttered out, "Yes...erm...yeah...I'll make sure."

Lavender wasn't so sure.


	29. TP 29 visions in the Night

**Chapter 29 – Visions in the Night**

**Submitted: Wednesday 30 July 2012**

**Spoiler Alert: This is the third post this week. Please check the submission dates at the top of the chapter to make sure you don't accidentally read ahead.**

**A/N: As I mentioned with my last chapter, I received a blast of inpiration and wrote several chapters over the past week. I will warn you that the next one is a little creepy. There will soon be more action but these chapters lay a lot of groundwork for the story and the series as a whole. If you are worried that the story is going to turn into a free for all of gratuitous physical encounters then please visit my profile page later this week. I'll have more details posted by then. Thanks for continuing to read. All I ask now is when you are done you write me how you think...you know, down there at the end of the chapter...where it asks if you want to share something. **

She just sat and watched. It was something she did regularly now. It would sometimes take him hours before he'd finally rustle himself to sleep. She'd sit and wait...and wait...and wait...Harry had never changed the protections on the home and she just couldn't help herself.

It was so easy. She slipped in one morning while he was having his breakfast and she prepared a place for herself in the wardrobe that he'd lent her for her clothes. She prepared a miniature bed and couch the size of children's dolls and placed them in the wardrobe for when she'd wait for him to fall asleep. Yes, it was a little out of the ordinary but she was a romantic witch. She was willing to make certain sacrifices so that when he finally came to his senses she would know it was time.

If he only knew the efforts she'd taken he'd understand how much she truly loved him. Only a true romantic would understand just how much she cared. There were those that didn't understand. When she explained to an old schoolmate what she planned she realised this witch had never understood her from the beginning. Eliza hated people who pretended to be mates only to call her mad when she finally opened up and shared her plans and dreams.

Eliza had spent a hefty sum of her father's gold. The bed and furniture were easy. She'd miniaturised them herself using a spell that Professor McGonagall had taught her years before. She also purchased specially made wards of Auror quality that let her know who passed by Harry's room and when they passed by. These warned her when he was on his way in. Lastly, after that first week of insufferable waiting and carefully cracking the door of the wardrobe while he rustled in his bed, she bought a device that she installed behind his headboard that allowed her to know when he'd finally fallen asleep. That had set her back a fair amount of Galleons but now she could just wait inside.

Until he fell asleep she'd wait. Then she'd step out of wardrobe and readjust to her normal size. If he only knew the sacrifices she made. She worried about him. He wasn't sleeping properly now that they were apart. She'd soon take care of that. For now, though, she'd just sit and watch. She'd sit and watch and make sure that he got a good night's sleep.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

"Harry!"

"What?" Harry asked as he shook himself awake. He lied there on a couch all scruffy in a pair of pyjamas where he'd fallen asleep. He'd tried to sleep in his bed but he'd woken up this morning just as tired as when he'd closed his eyes.

"I need your help Harry. I need you to wake up and I need you to listen." Hermione could be rather annoying when she wanted his attention and she tapped her foot in just such a way that ensured he'd never fall asleep.

"Blimey Hermione!" he finally roared as he turned over and glared at his mate. "What on _Earth_ could you _possibly need_ right now that would require you to be such an _insufferable_...?"

"...Finish that sentence at your own peril, Harry_,_" she cut him off with calculated calm.

There beside Hermione was Mum. Well, Molly. She stood with arms crossed and a look he hadn't seen since the day she'd dragged George into the Burrow after nearly a month of heavy drinking. Unconsciously, Harry placed a hand over his one exposed ear. "Morning, Mum," he declared in his cheeriest voice possible.

"Good Morning, indeed," Molly answered coolly, "Or rather it would be if t'wer still morning."

Harry sat up and shook himself awake.

"Have you been drinking, Harry?" Molly asked in her most menacing tone.

"Oh no!" he answered, "I just can't seem to sleep at night. When I do sleep it's a never-ending dream where Eliza's watching me. I guess it takes it's toll. I wake up feeling like I've been drugged."

"Have you been to see a healer?" It was amazing how Mrs. Weasley could go from her most severe to her most motherly without any warning at all.

"No."

"Maybe if you returned to work...did something with purpose...you'd find you slept better." Hermione obviously knew what had crossed his mind because she shot a silent apology his way almost immediately. He'd have understood if he could see his face. Fathers had disowned children with less angry expressions.

"I no longer find I have any any purpose at the Ministry," he grumbled, "they don't care much for my methods or my opinions."

Molly cocked an eyebrow, "Isn't that a bit melodramatic? You sound like a character from some poorly written romance novel." When she stepped nearer to him he again covered his ears. An expression of confusion crossed her face as she dropped a few pieces of parchment in his lap, "Those are your papers clearing you for duty at the Ministry. Son, do you have an ear-ache or something?"

"No, I'm just trying to avoid one," he tried to say under his breath. Hermione obviously heard him because she was doing her best to stifle a giggle. She let out a snort.

Molly turned on Hermione, "Dear, I thought you sorted out that snort out a few years back. It's not exactly ladylike."

Now Harry was the one stifling a snigger.

Molly shot a glance back at Harry. She'd heard and understood what he'd said under his breath after all and she didn't think it was one bit funny, "Get up, Harry, and make yourself presentable. You have company waiting for you downstairs. If you aren't down there in five minutes you'll need more than your hands to protect those ears."

Harry went up and changed as quickly as he could. He reminded himself that he needed to have Kreacher thoroughly clean his flat. As much as he tried to air out his room it always ended up smelling like Eliza's perfume. She might have been insane but he couldn't deny that they shared a certain attraction. He'd walk in not thinking of her at all and the scent would wash over him. Sometimes he wondered if he'd made a mistake. There were nights when he'd fall asleep missing her company. He'd dream of her teasing him...whispering in his ear, "You know you miss me Harry. All you need to do is tell me you love me. Say those three words and you could have all of this..."

Bah. He needed to get downstairs.

"Just more than six minutes," she remarked as she checked the time. She saw that Harry recognised his guest, "Well, it seems introductions aren't necessary. Hermione and I will leave you two to it, then."

With that the two walked out of the dining room and out of sight. Soon after the front door slammed shut.

"They dragged me here too," Harry's guest whined.

"She can be a mean old witch when she wants to be," Harry complained.

"Aye."

"I never thought I'd see you here again," Harry observed.

"Neither did I. Unfortunately, Mrs. Weasley and Hermione got a hold of my wife. They want you to drop by tomorrow night after you finish your shift at the Ministry. Your supposed to bring a few of our mates. I was told that you and I would be sorting things out before then."

"I don't want to return to the Ministry. I am done there. The War's _over_. They don't need me anyway." Just thinking of the War, Harry ran a finger over his scar.

"Harry, I don't think either of us has a choice. I've been informed by my wife that if you aren't at the pub with our mates tomorrow night that I will be sleeping in a room that has all the Cauldron's comforts...except my wife. She thinks that I should have apologised two months ago."

"Why? I'm the one that screwed up."

"She thinks that because of all you did that I should have forgiven you already. I should have never told her that frog story," Neville lamented.

"Frog story? Why?"

Neville sighed, "You know...the story about how we met on the train. She went into the whole business about how you were my first mate and how I should be more understanding. Then she goes into the whole business about how you once made a fool of yourself in front of Snape so he'd stop badgering me. When you get married, Harry, don't tell her a thing about your past. She'll use it against you given the first opportunity..."

"Not to interrupt, Neville, but would you like a drink?" Harry asked.

"I'd kill for a cuppa."

"Let's go upstairs then. The chairs are more comfortable there and I can conjure something up. If it'll get you back in good graces with Hannah then we'll figure something out."

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Harry showed up at the Ministry the next morning. There was no fanfare. Robards and Duncan acted as if he'd never left. Even Ron pretended that today was like any other. His only words were, "Hermione told me I was allowed to spend a night out at the Cauldron with you and Seamus and the rest of the rabble-rousers, as she calls them. I didn't think you were welcome there."

"Neville and I were informed yesterday that we are getting along now," it was still too recent for Harry to be able to laugh at the ridiculousness of such a thing. "I was also told that I wanted my job back, as well."

"Really? You don't look like you want your job back," Ron quipped. "You do look like you could use a bath, though."

Harry didn't get the opportunity to make a chippy retort. He found himself rubbing the back of his head where he'd just been swatted, "Two months Harry!" Nearly two months! Not a word? Not a line? For nearly two months you left me with a mouth breather for a replacement and you don't do so much as let me know how you are!"

"I think I'll leave you two to it," Ron said as he ducked away. "Good luck, Harry!" he called out.

Harry didn't hear a word of the admonishment his partner had for him. She'd apparently prepared a speech weeks ago and she blasted through it with a fierce determination that would have made any mum proud. Little did she know that he had tuned her out since word three and he was only nodding his head like George had taught him to do when Molly went through one of her rampages. It wasn't until she mentioned the word 'husband' and 'wheelchair' that he decided he needed to pay attention and maybe even catch up.

"What did you say?" Harry asked. What's this about your husband and a wheelchair?"

"Have you not been listening to a word I've said?" Tears filled Marianne's eyes, "It happened Valentines Day. He insisted on taking me to this restaurant which offered live music and dancing. As you know, he's been kind of odd lately. All the same, he seemed to be getting better and he wanted to celebrate with a romantic night of dancing."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"We were out on the floor and suddenly he collapsed. I didn't know what to do. We were in a Muggle restaurant and I couldn't just apparate him to St. Mungo's. Someone called an ambulance and he was taken to a nearby healing ward. It was barbaric. All this beeping from machines. I was horrified." Harry's partner tensed up, "You must understand. We have machines in our home. As a Professor, Matthew has one of those computers and it can talk to other computers all around the world. He also insists on a microwave but I can't get anywhere near it. Magic and certain machines just don't mix."

"Hermione's had trouble with certain Muggle machines in our home as well," Harry admitted.

"I tried to follow him into the healing ward but the machines kept tweeting and chirping any time I even thought about casting just a small spell. My husband tried to explain that they were very sensitive. I'd been to his healer...physician...and I never had this sort of trouble. I tried to cast a simple healing charm I knew to make sure it wasn't his heart. It set off every machine in the entire ward."

As much as Harry was interested in all of this he wanted to know, "What happened? Why is he in a wheelchair?"

"Oy...sorry...it turns out that the physician you had look at him at Cambridge had told him a month ago that he has something called MS...Multiple Sclerosis. I couldn't even pronounce it for a week. Our healers call it 'The Dropsies' because people who get it start dropping things."

Harry had heard of the disease before...the tellie at the Dursley's would occasionally run special programming about blokes who'd suffered from rare afflictions. Mrs. Dursley always had a sick fascination with those that suffered and she'd make some overture about how she'd be there for any relative that was 'so unfortunate.'

Marianne continued, "It's an extremely aggressive case. Even worse, he broke his leg in the fall. Ever since, Dr. Reddy has recommended that he remain in a wheelchair to protect his leg until it fully heals."

"So he's going to get better?" Harry was curious.

The look on his partner's face told him that he was missing the point altogether. Auror Marianne Mason was normally a strong witch. She had often been the one to drive Harry when he'd begin to come in late or lose interest. Tears were again beginning to form in her eyes, "He may never get better. As it is, he's having problems with memory and he gets tired easily. Cambridge has recommended he take a sabbatical while he sorts things out."

Harry's instinct was to hug Marianne and it must have been spot on because she instantly calmed down, "You'll sort this out. It can't be as bad as all that."

"I'm afraid it is," Marianne answered. All the same, she did relax as Harry hugged her. She'd stopped talking about it with her mates because they insisted on giving her advice or trying to solve her problem. It felt good to just unload her problems without having to give a recount of why she did such and such and not something else. Harry might not be the perfect partner but there was something to be said for the quiet type that listened more than spoke.

ZZZZZZZZZ

"I had the strangest dream last night," Seamus mentioned to his mates at the Leaky Cauldron later that night. He took a long draught of his pint of Guinness and continued nervously, "I was lying in bed and this angelic creature appears from nowhere in my flat. She glowed like the moon itself and had gorgeous locks of hair like rays of moonlight. Her skin was porcelain and perfect. She was like a dream but she was so real."

Ron and Dean couldn't help but interrupt, "She was life-like? So she slapped you?"

Neville chanced a look at Harry who's eyes twinkled knowingly, "Really, what happened next?"

"She was wearing this beautiful robe – more like a gown really. Before I could argue with her she climbs onto bed and leans over me. Her robe fell from her shoulders and I swear there wasn't a stitch between me and her. I have never seen anything like it in my life."

"Blimey, Seamus," Ron complained, "You act as if it were the first time to..." Ron looked at Seamus, "No..! After all your talk _all_ those years? This was your first time?"

"Nay!" Seamus protested. "I've shared evenings with plenty a lass but they generally don't slip into my flat looking like moonlit angels. You should have seen her..." he trailed off. "She was so different."

Dean couldn't it, "Meaning you didn't have to pay her?"

Harry elbowed his mate, "That's enough of that. Seamus, do you really think it was real?"

Seamus seemed encouraged, "Aye. It was more real than a dream. She kissed me and it was like I'd touched the lips of an angel. She brushed her body up against mine and I'd never felt nothing like it. We began to...well, you know, snog. And then she looked into my eyes and I felt...well, you know."

Dean couldn't help but interrupt again, "Mate, your blathering on like a twelve year old witch. No, '_I don't know_.' Tell us about it. What did the bird look like underneath all those feathers? What did she do? No need to be modest now. Don't spare details. I'm interested in knowing what an angel looks like, if you know what I mean."

Hannah, who had been standing behind Seamus, surprised everyone by joining in sarcastically, "_Oh yes_, Seamus. Spare _nooo_ detail. I am most interested in how you cheated an angel out of her halo. _Whatever_ did she look like?"

"Lavender..." replied Seamus dreamily.

"What?" It came out as an involuntary chorus from most everyone within earshot. Seamus was certain he'd only answered to himself in his head but by the looks on the faces around him his thoughts must have somehow escaped from his mouth, "I said it was a _**dream**_..." he stammered, "but it seemed so _**real**_. I knew it wasn't her but each time I looked in those eyes I saw a brilliant, fantastic, beautiful...replica of her right there before me."

Neville was watching those at the table. His wife was genuinely intrigued. Ron looked disturbed. Harry's eyes had the same penetrating interest that was reserved for Neville himself when he'd secretly pined for Hannah. He swore to himself that Harry knew more than he let on. Neville wondered if this was the reason that Molly and Hannah had been told that it was important that Harry bring the blokes to the pub tonight after their shift.

The only one that seemed oblivious to the impassioned telling of the story and the change in Seamus's nature was Dean who lightly punched his mate's arm, "Wouldn't be a night at the pub without a recollection of my mate's exploits with some imaginary bird now would it? I must admit, mate, this one tops them all. Too bad she wasn't there when you woke up, eh?"

Neville watched Seamus closely. He saw a sincerity and a yearning he'd never seen before in the bloke, "Aye," Seamus answered quietly and wistfully to no-one in particular, "I for one will drink to that." He drained his Guinness and took advantage of his hostess's proximity by ordering another.

Later that evening Neville decided to get his wife's take on what they'd heard.

"What did you think about the story Seamus told this evening?" Neville asked his wife as they finished cleaning the kitchen. She was guiding the pint glasses through an eddy of scalding hot water but she looked up just long enough to respond, "The way he told it I'd have sworn it was more than a dream. I've never seen anything have such an effect on that one. Usually when he comes in I'm busy cleaning the floor. I'd swear the witches order twice as many drinks when he's around. Half for them and half for him."

"He is my mate, Hannah, you can be more respectful than that," Neville chided.

Neville felt a breeze in the air as the pint glasses left the water and were quickly dried by a gust that Hannah had whisked around that corner of the room. As she waved her wand she reminded her husband, "I treat him with no less respect than he treats himself. Always acting the fool, that one is. It's as if he believes those antics would ever work on a witch with half a brain."

"I'm just saying..."

"Say what you will, Neville, but that bloke is as shallow as a marsh during the dry season. I do admit that something last night got to him. After hearing him tonight I'd swear he's lovestruck. Bewitched by a dream no less..."

Seamus was pondering just such a thing as he stumbled back to his flat.

His flat was much smaller than George Weasley's or anyone else's he knew. He hadn't bothered with more than a room and a toilet as he took showers at the Auror Headquarters and mostly ate with his mates. His flat was just above a dingy shop with a view of the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Dean had offered to find a more respectable place they could share but Seamus insisted he wanted his first place to be his own. He insisted it would give him more privacy to which Dean was quick to cheek, "Yes, that's what every young witch wants...a night alone with some bloke in a flat smelling of sweat and rat droppings."

It really wasn't that bad. He'd tidied the place up a bit and had bought loads of sweet smelling candles in case some young witch did happen to pass through the doors.

As he climbed the stairs he began to wonder again if the dream might indeed be real. He knew he shouldn't have said anything about it to his mates but he had been curious what their thoughts would be. They confirmed what he had suspected – he'd gone mad.

As he reached his front door he carefully inspected the lock. Earlier that morning he'd also given it a once over. The door had still been locked from the inside and there was no sign of entry. The young lass had left no evidence of being there except maybe the faint hint of lavender on his sheets...but he was sure this was merely his imagination playing tricks on him. Once inside, he considered whether she could have entered through the window. He pushed aside the linen sheet that served as a curtain and peered out at the night sky. This evening, like the last, the moon hid shyly away and the stars twinkled their delight.

Still tipsy from his night at the Cauldron, he decided he was ready for bed. He threw his clothes on a chair nearby and lied on his back with his hands behind his head. While watching the stars he carefully tried to recreate every image from the night before. If he could just etch those memories deeply enough into his mind - every movement she made, every feature of her face, every shadow that passed over her skin – he might not forget. He was certain he'd never have a dream like that again.

Until "click."

There, before him, were the same blonde locks and moonlit glow that he remembered from the evening before. He blinked as he swore to himself that he wasn't asleep. He didn't dare pinch himself. Asleep or awake, he wanted to give the Fates no reason to turn against him. He still couldn't keep himself from asking aloud, "Am I dreaming?"

"Is it important?" the young creature teased as she sauntered over. As she closed the distance between them she adjusted her robes and he was treated to a full moon on a moonless night. He was mesmerized. He was tempted to quip, "Mirror, mirror on the wall..." ...but for once his mind got ahead of his tongue. His reward was a smile and an observation, "It appears, Seamus, that you are prepared for me tonight."

Embarrassed, Seamus looked away. He couldn't imagine that he had consciously...well, it was his dream. Uncertainly, hoping to recover at least some of his dignity, he replied, "I wasn't sure you'd return but, as beautiful as you are, how could I not take the chance?" Inspiration flushed over him and he picked up his wand which lie nearby. Silently he lit the candles around him and they flickered to life one by one. It was the only non-verbal magic he could perform that didn't involve duelling.

With the added light he was sure he recognised the mysterious creature before him. He whispered, "Lavender?" She took no time to answer. Instead she hungrily took the initiative. Suddenly all he could think of was the sweet taste of her lips...and the smell of lavender in her hair. He wondered if she had intentionally wore the lavender oil so that he'd have no questions who she was.

Sensing that his mind was wandering. she intentionally shifted in such a manner that gave neither of them reason to think of anything but the moment at hand. "Care to dance?" she whispered in his ear.

At first he seemed tentative. Recognising that he needed reassurance, she set the pace and the rhythm. Eventually he gained confidence and took the lead. They danced the hour away to faint music that played only in their heads. Both of their hearts raced with anticipation as they felt the end of the song draw near. It was the type of music that begins softly but ends with a thunderous roar. Indeed, the dance came to an end as she sang along to the final verses. Her voice wasn't as refined as some – in fact, anyone within earshot would have only heard screams – but she belted out those final bars with a passion and joy of a witch who'd finally reclaimed her soul.

And then, lying silently spent in his arms, Seamus inexplicably found what he had sought for ages. He couldn't help but ask, "Why didn't we do this sooner?"

Her answer was simple, "Because you never asked."


	30. TP 30 Longings

**Chapter 30 - Longings**

**Submitted: Monday 23 July 2012**

**Spoiler Alert: This is the third chapter in a week and the fourth in ten days. If you haven't read since last Wednesday then check and see if you read the previous chapters first. **

**A/N: Please let me know what you think.**

Seamus woke much like he did the morning before. The dream had been so vivid. Only it had not been a dream. It had been Lavender. And they danced. Yes, danced.

The sun blazed through his window like it had never blazed before. When he gazed out to the entrance of Knockturn Alley even it looked like a wonderful place to be. After happily throwing on his robes he nearly skipped the distance between his flat and Auror Headquarters.

Saturday was not normally a popular workday at the Ministry and any Auror forced to work was generally there involuntarily. Today Seamus didn't mind at all and it caused a few to notice. One Auror in particular was brought to ask, "How could you possibly be all smiles on a morning like this? Out with it."

"Out with what?" Seamus raised an eyebrow but the persistent grin refused to go away.

"What was her name? Where did yah meet her? Was she one of the naughty ones or did you seduce a good'n?"

Seamus brushed away the wizard's questions with a hand, "No, no, no... T'wasn't nothing like that. She's not like that.

A nearby witch had been eavesdropping and she called out to the office, "Oh my! Is Seamus Finnigan in love?" Another witch who had regularly been the subject of his limericks mumbled under her breath, "Well, there's the end to the red light district. How will they possibly survive?"

Soon Seamus found himself hiding away in his cubicle. He could make the grin go away if he concentrated on it but it would creep back when he returned his attention to his work. He hadn't bothered to shower. He could still feel the memory of her beautiful skin on him and smell the faint scent of lavender. He was afraid that he'd forget everything if he risked a bath or a shower.

When Harry dropped by Seamus's desk he asked, "Is that the smell of...?"

Seamus nodded happy that someone else had confirmed the scent. He wasn't insane.

"You look like you..."

Again Seamus nodded enthusiastically. Seamus looked ready to ask a question of his own. Harry cut his mate off before he could ask.

"Oh, Seamus..." Harry was embarrassed. Why couldn't Dean do this? "I know what you are thinking...but you want to take this slow. Let her come to you. And I wouldn't expect her to return every night. In fact, it might be a while yet before she visits again."

"But why not?" Seamus didn't sound upset as much as curious. That would change after the first night she didn't return he was sure. "You don't understand. We..."

"Had a moment? Fell in love?" Harry wasn't good at this. At all. He'd rather be caring for a blast end screwt at the moment. "All I can say is that it's complicated...and that you _**don't**_ want to know. Well, of course you _**want**_ to know. But you wouldn't want to know if you knew. That I know." Harry recognised the look on Seamus's face – Ron got it every time he was about to try something stupid with Hermione, "Seamus, whatever you are thinking you want to do...I promise you that you don't want to do it."

Harry took Seamus by the shoulders and looked him dead in the eye, "I don't know why you are asking _**me**_ about this but I assure you three things. One, I'm rubbish at this. Two, she feels the same way about you as you do about her right now. Three, and three is by far the most important - Three, if you go find her right now instead of letting her come find you then she will hate you forever. You need to trust me on this and she needs you to be strong. Seamus...Seamus?" Harry looked at him carefully, "Understand?"

Harry got an idea, "Why don't you send her an owl?"

Seamus thought that was a grand idea. That was until he remembered that he was rubbish at writing. His first draft read:

Sat 24 Febuary 2001

Lavender,

Had good time last nite. Want to see you again. Dropping by?

Seamus

ZZZZZZZZZZZ

Later that week, Harry and his partner Marianne were eating lunch at the Cauldron. Harry was thankful that he and Neville were once again on speaking terms. It wasn't like all was forgiven but hopefully eventually they'd regain that trust that they'd had before he'd been such an arse.

Marianne was explaining the changes that her family was making to accommodate her husband's illness, "After his most recent visit to the physician, he accepted an early retirement with Cambridge. The benefits are covered by his disability insurance. It's only a percentage of his original income but we should be able to make do with it and my income together. He now stays home and spends his time reading and watching the tellie."

Harry was surprised, "Certainly he didn't have to retire. Hermione told me that there was another professor there in the same department with the very same illness. He's fought it for years and he's written books and everything."

"That bloke is a force of nature, Harry. I've meet him countless times and he came to terms with it years ago. Also, the disease affects different people in different ways. Matt's is affecting his mind horribly and he'll often lose his train of thought in the middle of a sentence. He's not handling it well either. I worry about him."

"What does Madeline think about all of this?"

"Oh, Madeline," Auror Mason broke eye contact with Harry, "I haven't had the heart to tell her yet. She just saw her dad at Christmas and he had still been hiding it. Easter will be here soon enough and I only hope he'll be out of the chair by then. At least that will make telling her easier."

It worried Harry that Madeline still knew nothing. Harry wasn't a father so he didn't know how he'd even bring up such a subject if he were. All the same, Madeline had grown on him over the years. From the time he'd met her at the Ministry to the time he'd rescued her from the Forbidden Forest her First Year...she'd been the only one outside his immediate circle he'd trusted with the secret of who'd been skulking around Hogwarts his final year.

She'd still send an occasional owl to Harry. Her last had been a sad note describing how Gryffindor had been eliminated from the Quidditch Cup after only the second match of the season.

"She's a strong girl," Harry reminded his partner, "Just tell her the truth."

"I suppose," Marianne sounded unsure.

"She's seen her share of adversity," Harry reminded her, "and she's fared just fine." Harry placed a few Galleons on the table and stood up, "I know what might cheer you up. I'm headed over to Andromeda's place for dinner tonight and Teddy will be devastated if I arrive empty handed. Why don't you come with me to George's and we'll take a look-see at what he has new?"

His partner shrugged but Harry knew better. No-one could keep from smiling once they entered Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He wasn't wrong. The shop's store-front had been updated yet again and in one of the windows was a display that read,_ "If you haven't seen our spring line then hurry in...grab hold of the most recent wheezes before your mates do."_ Another sign read, _"Join Freddy's Fools and get first crack at all of our best and newest. Admission is free but you must have evidence that you've recently pulled off a first class prank. Inquire within to learn more." _

"Freddy's Fools?" Madeline asked George when he met them at the front door, "Please don't tell me that my daughter is a member."

"Madeline? A member?" George asked. The young girl had been a big fan of George's and was a regular customer at the shop in Hogsmeade. He fluffed out his signature dragonhide jacket, "She was the one that gave me the idea."

"No!" Marianne protested.

"I'm just jerking your wand," George chuckled, "I'm not allowed to discuss membership. It's a secret society."

The evil eye was something George was immune to. He ignored Marianne and instead bowed to Harry, "And what may I help you with, kind sir?"

"What do you have that would excite a two year old boy without getting me strung up?" Harry asked. George was only too happy to help and he cheerfully led the way. Marianne, still touchy over George winding her up, decided to browse on her own.

When the returned to the register minutes later, nether Harry nor Marianne were empty handed. Harry cradled a couple of cute little stuffed puppies in an arm and Madeline had a box of what looked like envelopes. Seemingly, she'd decided to forgive George during her time away because she asked with a little excitement, "do these really work?"

George tried his best to look scandalised but couldn't quite pull it off, "Of course. Every item in this store has been carefully designed, tested and packaged by my employees." George looked unusually satisfied with her choice, "Those specifically are now used by Ministries throughout Europe for sensitive correspondence. We ship loads of them out a month."

"What are they?" asked Harry.

"Seal-for-Certain Envelopes," George explained, "Families with Muggles also like them because anyone can use them as long as they say the command. They are charmed so that when you lick the envelope and seal it then it will not open again if you say the words, 'seal for Harry Potter' or 'seal for Ron.' The only person that can open the envelope is the person you request."

Harry eyed the box and considered some for himself. George noticed and obliged, "Accio Envelopes." He further explained as he rang them up, "You can even say, 'seal for Aurors' and only an Auror can open them. It was an idea Ron came up with while he was helping me a few years back. I only just now was able to get them to work. Kid straight out of Hogwarts figured it out a few months ago and we just finished testing. He was Ravenclaw, of course."

"I didn't know Ravenclaws could have a sense of humour," Harry cheeked. He was rewarded with a scowl from his partner.

"I'm a Ravenclaw and you know that," Marianne scolded him. Her attention returned to the puppies, "Stuffed puppies? Doesn't Teddy have enough stuffed animals?"

Harry placed them on the counter, "Play!" Immediately the puppies sprang to life and began wrestling. Their yaps of glee brought a broad smile to Marianne's face. Harry noticed and gestured to George to get him a second pair for her. George rang it all up and soon Harry and Marianne were out the door with identical bags of envelopes and pups.

"You were right, Harry," Marianne admitted as they prepared to Floo back to the Ministry. "That did cheer me up. Thanks."

Taking a pinch of Floo Powder, Harry smiled. He was happy that she was happy. Marianne seemed to be the only person as sad as he was of late and it broke his heart. He hid his own sadness as well as he could because he knew others would simply pity him. Instead, he took every opportunity to cheer others up because he knew that in a way that made him feel better...if only temporarily. He was certain he'd feel better eventually. At least he hoped so.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Harry picked at his food.

Hermione was worried about Harry. Little surprise there. She'd worried for the boy since he was twelve. This was different, though. Even after returning to the Ministry he continued to retreat into himself. He spoke less. Seldom did he leave the house after he returned from his shift. He was now sitting at the table at the Weasley's lost in his thoughts as he ate his meal.

This was supposed to be a festive occasion. Tonight was Ron's twenty-first birthday. Ron had always considered twenty-one his lucky number so he'd been looking for ward to the celebration for some time. For months now Ron had proclaimed that starting in March he was going to have the most lucky of years. Hermione knew Harry wasn't trying to bring the celebration down but he was doing just that.

She nudged Harry under the table. Years had allowed them to develop their own sort of silent sign language and they could communicate more effectively without words than most married couples. Her face said it all, "Why are you so down?"

Harry glanced back and shrugged his shoulders. "It's nothing," he gestured.

Her lips pursed. She cocked her head as if to answer, "That's rubbish. I know when you're bloody well lying to me." She only cursed non-verbally.

With a jerk and a nod, his expression spoke volumes, "I'm serious."

It went on like that for a good five minutes. Eventually Hermione grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him outside. Now came the actual words, "Out with it."

"I've been wondering if I made a mistake with Eliza."

Hermione looked almost hopeful, "Really?"

"I dream about her every night. I can't get her scent out of my room. And then there are certain things about her that I just can't describe..."

"Well then please don't. I just ate. I know exactly why you fancy her. Ron lived vicariously through you for quite some time. He told me all about how she enjoyed frolicking around _sans stitches_."

Harry blushed, "There was the minor matter of that..." At least now he was smiling.

"But she's not Ginny. Remember?" Hermione coaxed him along, "You told me that's why you wanted to quit Eliza in the first place. You felt with Ginny that there was a chance at true love."

He seemed to regret his decision, "Maybe I acted to soon. How can I even be sure there'd ever be anything between Ginny and I? She hasn't even tried to contact me since school. For all I know she's moved on. She nearly wrote as much. Frankly, that's a bit nasty of her to ignore me like that, don't you think?"

Hermione smiled inwardly. Lavender would be pleased to hear this. She was about to share with Harry what Lavender had told her about second chances when she remembered that she wasn't allowed to say anything to him. She almost shrugged off the warning when the door opened from inside. George's voice called out, "They're about to cut the cake. Everyone inside!"

Moments later the family was standing around the kitchen table. All of the family was there except Ginny who'd sent an owl regretting her absence. Little did anyone know that Molly had sent three strongly worded pieces of parchment that made her feelings very clear regarding Ginny's choice of her career and team over her family.

But this wasn't a time to remember who wasn't here. All of her boys had made it. So had Harry and Hermione and Fleur. Little Victoire giggled a happy little 'yes' when Harry offered to pick her up so she could see the candles being lit.

Her pretty blue eyes sparkled when she was told she could lead the song:

_Happy Birthday to you_

_You live in a zoo_

_You look like a monkey_

_And you smell like one to!_

"Victoire!" Fleur admonished her, "Who taught you such a song?"

"Uncle Georgie!" sang out Victoire. The little witch was too proud to notice her mum's tone, "He promised to teach me a song special for Uncle Ron."

George caught his own mum's eye and slinked back. Ron would have non of it though, "Well sung, Vickie."

After planting a big kiss on the little girl's cheek Ron blew out his candles. Hermione couldn't help but ask the same question she asked every year since she'd known him, "What did you wish for?"

"It's funny you should ask," Ron answered. "It's my twenty-first birthday. I couldn't help but wish for something special." In front of everyone he got down on one knee and pulled out a small box, "I wished you'd say yes..." Ron remembered he'd never asked the question, "Will you marry me, Hermione Granger?"

After several gasps, the room waited with quiet anticipation for her answer. She quickly fanned herself as her face grew very warm and flush. She felt weak in the knees and grabbed the table to steady herself. She squealed out an enthusiastic "Yes!"

Ron placed the ring on her finger and again she tried to steady herself, "I need a chair. I'm going to be faint."

Cheers could be heard throughout the Burrow and Arthur promptly headed for the cabinet to seek out anything and everything he had on hand to carry out a proper toast. Harry took it upon himself to summon Kreacher and asked the elf to fetch a case of Hannah's best champaign as quick as he could at whatever the cost. Corks were popped and toasts were made within minutes of the glorious news. No-one was happier than Ron. Well, except Hermione...and Molly."

Molly and Fleur were already conspiring over arrangements before the second glasses of champaign were filled. George had slipped away to announce the news to other friends and family and soon there were visitors from all over wishing their best. No-one knew how but sandwiches began popping up on trays and tea was served to those that avoided spirits. Molly was so far into a debate over which wedding colours would best suit Hermione that she hadn't noticed that Winky and Kreacher had taken over the kitchen. Harry popped in and immediately noticed Winky's bump.

"Should you be here?" Harry asked.

His worry made Winky giggle, "A good House Elf serves until her baby is born."

"Kreacher? Should she be here?" Harry asked seeking a more objective answer.

"It will not hurt Winky to cook. Winky is strong," advised Kreacher in his bullfrog voice.

Harry was sceptical but he was quickly shooed out of the kitchen. Winky continued to prepare sandwiches and other food as Kreacher made trips back and forth from Grimmauld Place with loads of food. Little did Harry know but it was actually Kreacher that he should have been keeping an eye on. His elf was quickly tiring after repeated apparitions and he refused to stop and rest. After all, a good House Elf didn't stop to rest no matter how old he was. Kreacher rationalised to himself that he'd have plenty of time for such nonsense when his head was happily hanging on Harry's wall. The elf quietly wondered what Harry would have engraved on the brass marker below his name. Maybe something about him leading the elves in the charge against Voldemort?

The house was now full to the gills with guests. Even Luna had received a Patronus from George and she rushed from her camp in Abernathy Forest with Rufus in tow. When she arrived she was in no state for public appearances but given her reputation no-one was willing to mention it. She could have possibly dressed as she had on purpose, after all.

Hermione that night heard no less than a hundred little gasps and she squealed a hundred little squeals. Everyone wanted to see the ring and each time she showed it off a high pitched sound of glee slipped out involuntarily. She'd always thought that those witches that went around showing their rings off and making a fuss were shallow. Now she knew why they did it. It was so much fun!

Meanwhile, Harry had pealed Ron away from the crowd. They stood out in front where he and Hermione had talked not much more than an hour before. It was amazing how quickly life could change with just one question.

"You're going to do it, right?"

"What?" Harry was confused.

"Going to be my best man?" Ron looked worried, "I just assumed but when you didn't answer..."

"Sorry, Ron. I was stuck in my own head." Harry smiled, "How come you didn't at least let me know? Did you tell _anyone_?"

"The jeweller," Ron confessed. "I was afraid if I told anyone else she'd somehow get wind of it. I knew _**you'd**_ never say a word, mind you. You're head of class at keeping secrets. I suspect you could somehow keep a secret from yourself if you tried. But me? If I'd told even you she'd have read it on my face. I'm rubbish at secrets."

"Fair enough. What made you decide to do it tonight?"

"Today was my lucky day," Ron beamed. "I'm twenty-one today. And besides, this way I will always remember what day I asked her to marry me. Every time Mum sends me birthday cheers I'll know it's time to buy flowers. It works out perfectly."

"If you could only get married on your birthday," Harry teased.

"Aye..." Ron could only dream. "...Or if I could have her birthday on my birthday. That would keep me out of all sorts of messes."

They decided to head back in. One of the witches had a camera and Ron agreed to take pictures with his new bride to be. It wasn't something Harry felt like standing around watching.

Working his way through the crowd, Harry came upon Seamus telling dirty jokes to a group of young ladies, "Do you know why every witch smiles on the way to the altar?"

Katie Bell couldn't help herself, "Because it's common knowledge that Seamus doesn't ask out married witches?"

Seamus turned a bright red as the young ladies had a good laugh at his expense. "Ha Ha, Katie!" He decided to try again, "Does anyone know what kind of food reduces a witch's interest in the Evening Olympics by ninety percent?"

Katie swooped in again and stole the show, "Well, dinner with you is certain to reduce it by one-hundred percent. What will only reduce it by only ninety?"

Poor Seamus was totally deflated, "Wedding cake." He didn't even wait for the laugh. Instead, dejected, he turned and walked away.

Harry felt sorry for the poor bloke. Seamus should have known that he didn't have a chance around Katie. She was Seamus's nemesis. Any time he had a dirty joke or a handy pick up line she'd shoot him down if only for the sport of it. According to Dean, Seamus stood her up about a year back and she never forgave him. Now she took great pleasure in embarrassing him any time he flirted with other witches.

When Seamus caught sight of Harry, he rushed over to him, "I think I may have made Lavender angry."

"Why do you think that?"

The last Seamus had spoken to Harry was a few days before and all was good. He'd sent an owl to Lavender after having one of the witches at the Auror Office proof-read it. She didn't rewrite the letter for him but she did mention that witches typically prefer a little more than "I had a good time with you last night – do you want to do it again?" He wrote four drafts before the young witch thought it was worthy to send. Since then they'd sent owls back and forth and Seamus seemed very pleased with the correspondence.

But now Seamus looked concerned, "We were good. She sent back a few letters and then she just stopped."

"Just stopped?"

Seamus shrugged, "A few days go. Nothing."

"Maybe she got busy," Harry was unsure.

"Dunno. We had two owls flying a circuit each day. Poor things had to be exhausted. Then Tuesday mine returned and I got nothing back. I sent a note asking if I'd said something wrong and it came back unopened."

"What could you have said?" Harry asked.

"Well, this was the last letter she wrote." Seamus pulled a piece of wrinkled parchment out of a pocket and handed it to Harry. The parchment smelled of sweet lavender and the handwriting had the sweet flowery style to it that Lavender was known for:

_Tue 27 Mar 2001_

_My Dear Seamus,_

_I can't stop thinking of you, either. Those two evenings will be treasured by me forever. You have patched a hole in my heart that I felt could never be filled. For so long I wondered if I could ever love again. Even worse, I didn't think there was any way that you could possibly feel the same way for me as I felt for you. I was afraid that night that when I kissed you that you'd laugh at me and turn me away._

_I am curious. You wrote last night that all you could think about was me. It sounded as if you'd thought of me for quite some time – for as long as I've thought about you. When you think about me, what do you think about? What is it that you fancy most about me?_

_Desperately Waiting,_

_Lavender _

Seamus was right. If she was desperately waiting for his response then she should have answered back already. Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach, "What was your answer?"

"I told her that I couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful she was," Seamus answered. "Birds always go for that sort of thing. Especially Lavender. She's always fancied blokes telling her how beautiful she is." Seamus noticed that Harry was concerned, "Oh, don't worry, Mate. It's not like I said anything about her bits or her bum. I was tasteful. I said she had amazing eyes and her skin was like shimmering moonlight and all. I even said something about her lips and her 'long flowing tresses.' I can't remember where I heard that one but it always gets witches going."

Harry knew instantly what the problem was, "Seamus, you need to distance yourself from her looks as quickly as you can." How could he explain without compromising Lavender's secret? Harry thought for a second, "Seamus, the old Lavender wanted a bloke who appreciated her beauty. She changed after the war. All that time at St. Mungo's made her recognise how easily beauty can be stolen away."

"So what? Have you ever seen a bloke pick up a bird at a pub by telling her how great her personality is?"

This wasn't going to be easy. Harry sighed, "Then don't listen to me." He began to walk away.

"Wait! Harry!" Seamus sounded desperate, "Do you really think she's angry with me because I said how beautiful she was?"

"Maybe it was what you didn't say to her," Harry answered.

"Like?" Seamus wasn't the most deep bloke Harry had met but he'd expected his mate would at least have a clue.

"Maybe you need to think about it and then write her. Think real hard about what it is that you really fancy about her. Consider things other than what she looks like...that's just a hint." Harry tried not to sound sarcastic but he couldn't help it.

"Maybe I should just go find her and tell her myself. I'm rubbish at writing," Seamus thought aloud.

Harry's head dropped. He felt so much sympathy for his mate but he also wanted to wring the poor bloke's neck. He'd become like an over-enthusiastic puppy...Harry even imagined him jumping up and down and yapping as he talked.

"Heel!" Harry commanded. Seamus didn't get Harry's joke but he stopped all the same. Harry thought fast. Quietly, so no-one would hear, Harry danced around the truth, "Look Seamus, Lavender is ill. It's a rare illness and she can only come out at certain times...certain evenings...and she comes to see you when she can. But you've got to be patient. She doesn't want anyone seeing her when she's not well."

The tactic backfired, "What's wrong with her? If she's sick I should be there now. Someone should be with her."

Harry looked left and right in a panic, "Seamus, calm down."

"But I love her!"

This last proclomation was loud enough to grab the attention of anyone nearby. Young witches around the room cocked their ears to hear what they could. Rumour had it that Seamus had fallen in love but no-one had ever heard Seamus utter the words 'I love you.' In fact, he made it plainly known that of all of the nefarious and foolish things he was willing to do to get a bird to snog with him...he would never sink so low as to say, "I love you."

What was it about a bloke who's heart was taken that made him ten times more attractive?

But now Seamus had found a way to combine two of Harry's least favourite things. The only thing that Harry abhorred more than talking about love and relationships was to speak about private things in the earshot of others. "We should probably discuss this later."

"No," Seamus insisted, "I'd like to discuss this now."

Harry looked around the room, taking account of all of the ears, "Then I'll make it very clear and end it with this. You can do what you wish Seamus but if you go seek her out and find her she will hate you forever. I said that once and I'll say it again. You think what you are considering is noble and grand but it is plain cruel. Ask her yourself the next time you write."

"But she won't even answer me."

"Bollocks. You keep writing her until she answers. Buy a fleet of owls if you must but make sure you think hard on what you write her. Think about what it really is you love about her if that is indeed true. When you tell a young witch how beautiful she is it makes her giddy. When you tell a witch who's seen a bit of the world how beautiful she is...it strikes her right at her greatest insecurity. What will you do when she's no longer beautiful? Will you leave her? When Lavender asked you what you fancy most about her she was really asking what you value most in a witch."

"How do you know? It's not like you've been swimming in birds," Seamus replied without confidence. "How many have you actually been with?"

Harry glanced at the small crowd interested in their conversation. He ignored the second question, "I don't know. You asked my advice and I answered best I could. If you don't like my answer then go ask someone else."

It was time to go. Harry had had enough of people for one evening. He politely said his good nights and he headed home to sleep.

ZZZZZZZZZZ

Hermione couldn't wait to see Lavender. She woke the poor witch up by banging on her door. Hermione wondered when she had stopped being afraid of the Forbidden Forest. It wasn't that the forest was any less foreboding but with her training with Harry she felt confident in her ability to fend off nearly anything within. Well, maybe not the Centaurs...but Harry's name went a long way with the herd.

Lavender answered the door all bleary-eyed. Her left eye was actually a bit crusty and Hermione was not sure whether she should point it out or not. Instead she followed her hostess into the cottage.

"What brings you out here tonight?" Lavender asked with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance in her voice. "It's three o'clock if it's midnight."

"I wanted to show you this!" Hermione squealed as she held out her hand.

"Oh. Congratulations," Lavender answered in the most sarcastic voice she could muster, "the ex-boyfriend you stole out from under my nose asked you to marry him?"

Hermione was at a loss for words. She hadn't considered how Lavender would feel about her marrying Ron. They had gotten on so well the past few years. Her shoulders slumped.

Lavender sighed, "Look, it's not the end of the world. It's just one more reminder that I look like this and you are so beautiful and are getting everything you ever wanted. To be woken up in the middle of the night to be reminded is just an added bonus."

"But what about Seamus?" Hermione asked. "Harry said you two were getting on well."

"That's over."

"Why?" Hermione had already returned to her bubbly self. It was hard not to be bubbly when you wore a _brand new engagement ring_ on your hand.

Lavender growled, "Honestly? Can we discuss this some other time?"

"Erm, yes..." Hermione felt like a fool but she perked up, "But that's not why I came!"

"Really, what other news could you have for me this late at night?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Actually, considering you can tell the future and see so much I'm surprised that you didn't know I was coming."

"It doesn't work like that."

"Oh." Hermione went back to being as excited and bubbly, "You would not believe what happened this evening."

"Try me," Lavender challenged her.

"Harry said he's considering patching things up with Eliza!"

Lavender gaped at Hermione, "No. No no no. He can't." Lavender began pacing around the room. It looked a little strange with her uneven gait and her hump.

"Why not? You said that he'd ruined his first chance with her and he had one last opportunity. He even said tonight that he dreams about her and that he can still smell the scent of her perfume when he wakes up!" When Lavender didn't seem convinced Hermione tried one more time, "He'll be happy again."

"You didn't understand me," Lavender explained, "he _**would**_ have been happy with her. When he turned her away she went from a _little loony_ to _barking mad_. I was going to send you an owl in the morning because she's now reached a whole new level of insanity."

"I don't understand."

Lavender went searching for her wand, "I had dream tonight. Harry's my only subject that enters my dreams. It's quite unnerving at times. Many things I'd rather not see. People should be allowed their privacy..." There it was. It had been under a stack of notes. She walked unevenly toward the cabinet, "Once again, it would probably be easier if I showed you."

Opening the cabinet, she pulled out the pensieve. She placed her wand to her temple and followed the same routine as she had before. Seconds later she gestured for Hermione to take a look at the vision waiting for her in the swirling silvery pool.

Hermione obliged but this time it was different. This time Hermione recognised the room. Lavender was standing in a corner observing and just like last time Eliza ignored her. Instead Eliza was silently watching Harry. Eliza whispered quietly as she watched.

Eliza's eyes were full of hunger. She wanted what she couldn't have. Her hands wrung as she rationalised what she was about to do. She kept repeating just loud enough for Harry's subconscious to hear, "You love me Harry. You can't be apart from me any more than I can be apart from you."

She pulled out a bottle of her perfume and sprayed it once over him, "This is so you remember me when you wake up. You can't forget the times were together, can you?" She leaned near his ear, "Do you remember that very first night and the next morning when I did that dance for you?"

It was as if she was performing the same script and routine that she had for weeks. In fact, many of the things she was saying sounded much like things Harry had mentioned at the party hours before. The whole bit where he said he dreamed of her watching over him? The hint of her perfume lingering each morning? Hermione wondered how Kreacher had not noticed Eliza's presence in the house before.

She felt physically sick when Eliza checked a cup on Harry's night stand, "It looks as if you drank just enough of it tonight, Harry. Not every girlfriend would care for her boyfriend so much that she'd make sure he'd sleep through the night. I told you I'd find a way to help you sleep. I'm a true romantic and I take good care of my wizard."

But then Hermione grasped the real reason that Eliza had given Harry a sedative. She wanted so badly to wake Harry and warn him but she knew this was only a vision. Instead she watched as Eliza glanced toward the door. The redhead was gathering enough courage for something...finally she pulled back the sheets.

"You shouldn't do that," Eliza whispered.

"It'll be ok," Eliza answered herself. "I did it last night and he didn't mind. Besides, it's romantic. And he always liked it when I lied down next to him and kept him company."

Eliza wasn't convinced, "But remember what happened last night? You couldn't sleep all night."

"Hush!" Eliza answered. She was done arguing.

Instead she slipped between the sheets next to Harry. Thankfully he was wearing pyjamas.

At first she just lie there with her head nestled on his chest telling him how much she loved him while stroking his tousled hair with a free hand. She explained for what Hermione imagined was the thousandth time, in detail, why she'd been so foolish to use the Polyjuice. "My father had me see a doctor. Sylvestor told and daddy got all worried. The doctor says I have an unhealthy obsession with physical contact. He also said that I have an unhealthy obsession with you," she giggled.

"But you don't mind, do you?" she asked while twirling a lock of his hair. Then she kissed him. Of course he didn't kiss her back. He was out cold.

"I won't disappoint you ever again, Harry. You won't ever be angry with me again, either. You won't want that nasty old Weasley girl. She's just poor old trash anyhow. Pure blood doesn't always mean clean blood, does it?"

She kissed him again. She must have imagined that he was kissing her back because she seemed pleased when she was done, "Harry, you were always such a good kisser. I love you."

As if it hadn't gotten weird enough, Hermione couldn't believe what happened next. Eliza took Harry's jaw in her hand and began to move it. In her deepest voice she answered back, "Oh, I love you too, Liza. I'm so sorry we fought...I'm going to wait for you Liza. Just like I said, I'm going to marry you. We'll wait out the year like I promised... and we'll get married."

"Oh! Harry!" Liza couldn't look more pleased.

And then they came. The pangs. Eliza couldn't keep this up and she knew it.

"Harry, I've got to go away a while. I can't continue to do this. It's too hard for me. Until you come to your senses I'll need some time away."

Hermione covered her mouth in shock as Eliza began plucking hairs right out of Harry's head. She carefully pulled a few dozen hairs from the back and placed them in a small bag, "That should do...for now. I'm so sorry, I hope you understand."

She kissed him one more time. Then she moved his jaw for one last loving goodbye. "I'll miss you, Liza. Don't stay away too long," he said in her deepest voice.

"I won't," she answered back. "How could I possibly stay away from you? I love you Harry."

He tried to answer back but she placed a finger over his lips. "Shhh..." she whispered, "I know, Love." With that, Eliza grabbed her bag and the rest of her things before she covered herself with his cloak and slipped out the door.


	31. TP 31 Promising Correspondence

**Chapter 31 – Promising Correspondence **

**Submitted: Thursday 2 August 2012**

"What are you going on about?" Harry asked.

"We need to replace all of the wards Harry," Hermione explained frantically. "Eliza's been in the house. She has your cloak."

"My cloak?" Harry had wondered where it had gone off to. He'd thought he'd simply misplaced it. "But why would she take my cloak? She doesn't strike me as a thief."

If Harry only knew. Hermione had received strict instructions on what she could and couldn't share. They didn't want to scare him off witches entirely. All the same, Hermione had vile nightmares the evening before...after a very long hot shower that did nothing to wash off the residue of filth she was certain the Pensieve had left behind.

"You have no idea what she's capable of, Harry."

An astonished Harry crossed his arms, "But last night you all but convinced me to give her a ring."

That made Hermione smile for the first time since the night before. Without thinking, her thumb found the ring on her left hand and began to play with the diamond. She loved feeling of the smooth facets on her skin.

Meanwhile, she considered the best way to explain, "Harry, she's been in the house...uninvited. Regardless of what I thought last night, skulking around an exes home and stealing family heirlooms is not healthy. You need to be very careful around her."

Harry didn't know what to think. He believed it was generally best to trust Hermione's judgement. Eventually he decided it couldn't hurt and he adjusted the wards on everything from the Floo to the front door.

Hermione's next task was to understand why Kreacher hadn't mentioned Eliza's presence in the house. She summoned him to her own room to ensure privacy. "Kreacher."

Kreacher was still no fan of Muggle Born witches but if there was one exception it was Hermione. He greeted her warmly with a croak, "What may Kreacher do for the Mistress Hermione?"

"I was wondering if you were aware of the presence of Miss Eliza MacGreggor in the house the past few weeks?"

The house elf looked curiously at Hermione, "Of course. The Mistress Eliza is a guest. Often she watches Master Potter as he sleeps and she cares for him. She cares for him very much."

Hermione stared at the elf in disbelief.

"Has Kreacher done something wrong?" asked the elf.

"Nothing Eliza has done strikes you as a little odd?" Hermione asked.

"No," the elf answered, "Mistress Eliza explained weeks ago that she only wished to care for Master Potter. Never has Master Potter been hurt by the mistress."

"And you didn't bother to ask Harry if she should be here?" Hermione asked.

"Why should Kreacher do such a thing? A good House Elf does not question his master. Master Potter instructed Kreacher to allow Mistress Eliza to come and go as she pleases. This is true of Mistress Hermione and Master Ron as well as many other Master Potter's acquaintances."

What Kreacher said made sense. Why would Kreacher take it upon himself to bar entry to Eliza? The wards had not been changed. Harry had never broached the subject. Frankly, the number allowed access to the home and the lower floors was staggering when one thought about it.

Hermione decided at least one witch should no longer be welcome, "Kreacher, would you do me a favour? If you feel Eliza attempt to enter the home, would you please let me know. Don't try and stop her, just let me know."

The elf looked at her worriedly, "Has Kreacher done something wrong?"

"No," Hermione reassured him, "You did precisely as you were told."

ZZZZZZZ

A week after the wards were adjusted, Hermione received a visit in the middle of the night from Kreacher. "Mistress Eliza tried the Floo but the wards stopped her," the elf informed Hermione. This made the witch at least a little more confident. She'd been worried that Eliza might have fashioned an illegal port-key directly into Harry's room. That would have been what Hermione would have done. Fortunately, the only way to fashion such a key for a home under protection of the Fidelus Charm was from inside the room itself.

Harry didn't realise it but he quickly returned to the habit of burying his emotions in his work. He became fixated on the thought of punishing those that had been attacking 'blood traitors.' He also reopened his own private investigation into how that ruddy writer had learned about his relationship with Eliza and the secrets about his elves. Such a person was dangerous to him.

Harry's partner, Marianne, was beginning to dread the coming of the Easter holiday. Auror Mason was growing more and more fidgety as the week grew closer. Soon, she'd have to tell her daughter Madeline about her husband and she wasn't certain how the young witch would take it.

Ron was growing more and more worried as well. He didn't know why but his wife was in the toilet ever more often and she'd begun to decline all sorts of food and drink. She was much more moody than normal and she'd cry or bicker with him much more easily than he ever remembered. She was sleeping in more often and retiring earlier with regularity. He'd commented about it to Harry several times over the past few weeks to which Harry would respond, "Maybe she's just got a hankering for wedding cake."

"What's a 'hankering'?" Ron asked.

"Dunno," Harry admitted. "Some bloke from the States uses it. Means she wants something."

"Wedding cake, though?"

"Just a joke Seamus made a few weeks back at your party," Harry smiled to himself.

Winky finally had her baby the third week of March. Well, sort of.

The Ministry had assigned an elven midwife for the birth. Mumsy had delivered bundles of elven babies and this was the first she'd ever delivered outside of the Ministry. Normally she'd take it directly to an elf that would raise it and mentor it. Mumsy couldn't help but mutter at a sleeping Winky as she changed the babies' dressings, "Whole thing is right irregular all around. Never seen no house elf deliver two young at once. And to be delivered under these conditions..."

"Why is she so sour?" Ron asked Hermione. He was trying to peek in on the babies as the midwife expertly cleaned them.

"Mumsy does not approve of the babies remaining with Winky." Hermione mocked the midwife with a whisper, "A good House Elf must give up a good House Elf's young as a House Elf should.'"

"As a good House Elf should," the midwife quietly quipped.

"Silence," Harry hissed from a corner in the room. One would have imagined Harry was the father considering how conscientiously he held watch over Winky and her babies. The midwife cowered as Harry reminded her, "I was the highest bidder and therefore I am the owner of these elves. If I'm correct, that also means that for the next six weeks I am your master as well. If you can't treat Winky with respect then I might be the first wizard to be brought up on charges under the new Elf Protection Act." Mumsy let out a gasp and rushed out of the room.

Hermione sniggered but quickly admonished herself for it. Those Act had been authored by her and voted on by the Wizengamut as a part of an initiative to protect House Elves from the abuses that, though rare, happened from time to time. Elves were no longer allowed to punish themselves at their owners' wish. Owners were no longer allowed to lay a hand on the elves either. It wasn't much but to Hermione it was a beginning. "Harry, you can't..."

"...Let a little elven hag bully Winky simply because she doesn't agree with her?" Harry suggested, "Because I'm not about to let that beast tell my little girl that she shouldn't be able to keep her young."

Harry's little girl. That made Hermione smile.

"What is she going to name them?" Ron asked. The second baby had been a rare and pleasant surprise.

"She likes the name Tinkles for the girl," Hermione answered. "She wanted to name a boy Hairy but Harry over there would have nothing of it. I suggested Dobby but she felt there could only be one Dobby. I think she finally settled on Dumbles."

Ron was curious, "After Dumbledore?"

Hermione nodded, "Besides being a powerful wizard, he took her in when she was thrown out by Crouch."

Ron shivered, "At least she didn't name him Barty."

"She considered it," Hermione whispered, "Until I reminded her what he did to Harry."

The midwife soon returned and without a word she changed the babies' dressings. Ron decided that elf poo smelled no better than poo from human babies.

ZZZZZZZZZZ

_4 April 2001_

_Dear Harry,_

_I've sorely missed you. I was wondering if you might be interested in a bite to eat? I have some information you would likely find useful._

_Impatiently Waiting,_

_Eva Flanagan_

Harry hadn't thought of Eva in what seemed like ages. How long ago had it been? June? July? It was soon after he and Eliza had gotten serious. Eva was the receptionist at the Daily Prophet and assistant to the Editor Quilvash. They had lunch several months before and it had become very awkward at the end when both felt a small spark. Both had meant to kiss each other on the cheek when they said their good-byes and the result was a small touch of the lips that Harry now thought about with a smile.

After feeding Eva's little grey owl a few morsels Harry sent him back to his owner empty-handed. He wasn't sure how he wanted to respond and he needed more time than what the owl would offer.

'What could she possibly have?' he wondered to himself as he sipped an afternoon tea and listened to the wireless in the sitting room. He had plenty to distract him right now. While he had made little headway in the 'Blood Traitor' investigation he was supposed to leave alone, he'd received an interesting journal from a contact in Rome. Most servants were illiterate in Ancient Rome but this servant had been a scribe from Judea and had been sent to the Imperial Palace as a slave when captured during the Hebrew uprisings.

He'd apparently been a suck-up because he was allowed to keep his journal while travelling from Judea to Rome. Harry wasn't familiar with the period of history but wondered if the journal were a fake. Why would an Emperor want a slave near him that had fought his armies as a sworn enemy?

Either way, he'd need to have the journal translated before he could read it. The journal was written in Greek. Although Hermione could probably read it as it was, he was trying to keep from burdening her with yet another project. With her work at the Ministry, her work at Cambridge and her various projects around the house, he couldn't possibly ask her with one more thing. She'd recently lost the stamina that she partnered with her intellect to make her what he could only describe as 'Hermione.' So he decided to send the book to Gringotts to ask them to discreetly find a translator that could help him with the journal. If it was a worthwhile lead then he'd surprise her.

That settled, he thought on a response for Eva:

_Eve,_

_Lunch would be terrific. Same place as last time or do you have another place in mind?_

_Curious,_

_Harry_

He wasn't looking to date but there had been a spark with Eva that Harry couldn't deny. He didn't know why. Had he fancied her because she'd been that fetching or was it because he'd intentionally told himself he couldn't see her. She had an amazing set of eyes...a brilliant blue with these mysterious green flecks that changed colour in the candlelight. And she had a way of looking at you as if she was interested in every word you had to say.

Somehow, as he wrapped the parchment and went for his owl, he found himself wondering more about her and less about the news she had promised.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Harry wasn't the only wizard to receive a letter that day. Seamus sat at the Cauldron determined to get snoggered.

Hannah cast a worried glance after the wizard as she poured yet another smoking glass of Ogden's, "Seamus, are you sure you don't want a Guinness? You're nearly the only bloke that drinks the stuff and if you change to firewhiskey for good then I risk the whole keg going bad. We can't be having that, now can we?"

"Oy, Hannah," Seamus lamented, "It's good er yah to be all concerned and all for me but I doubt one night's abstinence will ruin you." Seamus glanced down at the folded parchment wistfully, "Sides, tonight I needs to drown meh sorrows."

Hannah wondered what sort of secrets were hiding inside that parchment. They must be something if they made her most gregarious customer into such a lamb. For a good month now Seamus had made a slow transformation from the obnoxious bane of all witches into a brooding sentimental romantic. To add to the mystery, witches now eyed him from the other side of the pub and would occasionally ask about him. They'd ask questions like, "Who's that one over there?" and "Is that one over there spoken for?" Hannah could only laugh.

And it wasn't as if the Gryffindor wasn't handsome in his own way. He wasn't particularly well built or tall but when he was in one of these brooding moods she thought he looked rather like one of those deep poet types. In other words, the exact opposite of himself.

Even tonight, there was a witch sitting with her mates at a table across the way that had her eye on him. When Hannah came over to serve the next round, the witch asked, "What is that piece of parchment he keeps toying around with?"

"I haven't any idea," Hannah answered truthfully.

They watched as he opened it again and read it. If Hannah hadn't seen the pain in his expression as he'd come in earlier and known how snoggered he really was she'd have wondered if this was a new act to pick up the birds. A month ago she wouldn't have put it past him. He'd once told a witch that he was an agent with the Irish Department of Mysteries sent to England to find out why English witches were better in the sack. He'd had special robes made and everything so he'd look official.

He eyed the parchment sadly:

_4 April 2001_

_My Dearest Seamus,_

_I fear you underestimate my determination in this matter. I understand that you are disappointed that I did not show up last week but I warned you for weeks that this would be so. This arrangement will not work._

_You told me in the beginning what is most important to you. I'd be misleading you if I allowed us to continue on our present course. I am not what I seem. While you may feel sad now, if you were privy to all of the facts you would thank me breaking this off in the beginning so that there was no further sadness and no ultimate disappointment._

_Regretfully,_

_L.B._

Why couldn't she see how he really felt? It drove Seamus mad that she ignored his pleas. If she only knew...

Hannah and the witch watched as Seamus slowly allowed his head to fall to the bar table. Normally Hannah would shoo the drunkards off or get them a flat upstairs for the night if she knew them. Tonight though she was overtaken by wonder. The witch beside her had her own curiosities, "He couldn't possibly be comfortable like that. Maybe I should see him home..."

If Seamus hadn't bolted up, Hannah would have had some choice words for that witch regarding her mate. Wait, was Seamus one of her mates? She'd never considered him one before...Seamus had always been Neville's mate up to now.

But now the tortured young wizard seemed full of inspiration. He pulled out a quill and a bottle of ink and furiously he wrote. He'd stop for a few moments and bite his bottom lip as he considered what to write next. As far as he knew there was no-one else in the pub and he'd have been shocked if he'd have known there was a table full of witches enrapt in every action he took.

In fact, Seamus wouldn't have cared had he known. At the moment there was only one witch in this world that was worthy of his thoughts. Absent-mindedly he placed the tip of his quill to his mouth and stained a small part of his lip black. As he wrote he felt the drunken passion one feels when the words fall off the tongue easily. Seldom had he been so inspired and he was determined not to squander such luck. When he was done, he stared at the parchment.

_April 4 or 5 (Im not rightly sure.) _

_Lavender,_

_I'm sitting in this pub and I feel like a drunken full. You don't get how I feel. All this time I been telling you what I think you want me to tell you and I hadn't been telling you how I reely feel. I shoulda listened to Harry but I didn't understand what he meant when he said it. _

_I don't fancy you cause your pretty and all of that. I fancy you cause you make me feel like I'm more than some regular bloke. You make me better than I am – specially when I'm around you. I've fancied you for a long time now._

_Remember that time I set you up with Ron? You remember asking who you should hook up with? I wanted it to be me. I've always wanted it to be me. You had such an easy way about you. Not easy like easy... You know. Easy like care free._

_When we were at Hogwarts you'd make me want to swallow my heart. I had to be all cool round you but I couldn't. I always talked about all the witches I wanted to shag because I was afraid you'd be on to me and all. But all I could think about was you. And now I've lost you. I had you and I lost you and I don't even know how._

_You could grow a second head and talk out of your ear and Id still fancy you and thats the truth. I don't care nothing about what you look like. If I could just kiss your lips one more time. You make me want to be a better person. Does that make sense? Does it make sense at all or am I just speaking full of piss and all? I'm not rightly sure to be honest. But I love you Lavender and it would brake my heart if you'd not see me anymore because you thought I just loved you for your looks. And that's the truth. All of it._

_I love you._

_Seamus _

_Sadly_

_PS...Don't not right back. I don't think I could bare it._

And then Seamus passed out properly. His snores could be heard throughout the pub. They were so loud that Neville came out of the kitchen, "Hannah?"

Neville looked over at his wife. She and the witches were the last ones in the pub, "Hannah, what is this? What happened to him?"

Hannah shrugged, "He just fell over. Had a quarter a bottle of whiskey I reckon."

The witches nodded. They'd kept their eyes on him for a while now.

"Oy!" Neville looked at his mate, "Well, he isn't walking home like this. I'll set him up in 2b."

Instead of levitating him with his wand, Neville threw Seamus over his broad shoulder and carried him up the steps with little effort. This caused one the witches, now a little snoggered herself, to remark, "He can come back for me when he's done."

Hannah would have none of it. She called out over her shoulder as she made to pick up the parchment that Seamus had left behind, "Don't be lingering on that one too long, ladies. He's spoken for." She ceremoniously waggled her wedding ring so they could see.

"Taken or not," one of the witches whispered to the others, "I've got a little something to think on now when I head home to bed."

Hannah didn't hear. She was busy reading the pieces of parchment that Seamus left behind. First she read the letter from Lavender. Shaking her head, she read Seamus's reply. Determined, she headed upstairs and wrote a short note of her own.

_Dear Lavender,_

_It has been some time since we've crossed paths. That said, poor Seamus has been in a rather odd state for some time now. He has always been ready with a word or two for any unattached witch he might see. _

_Of late, though, he seems to pine for only one. Tonight he brooded alone and drank himself into such a state that I could not describe. He wrote a short letter just before my dear husband carried him to bed. _

_However much his grammar may be off I believe his heart and sentiment are genuine. I fear if you do not give him a chance his heart shall be broken. It would be a shame because I could grow fond of this new Seamus._

_Respectfully,_

_Hannah Longbottom_

_PS...if you ever find yourself near the Leaky Cauldron please drop in for a bite or a drink. It would be a pleasure._

Hannah folded up the parchment belonging to Seamus within her own and she fastened it to the leg of her owl, Snickers. She whispered a kind word in its ear along with a destination and it flew out the open window with a hoot.

She then headed downstairs to clean up. It would soon be time for last call.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

With so many letters being passed around it little surprise that one might leave the country. One young witch was pleasantly surprised to receive a note from her sister. It read, in French:

_Mon Ami,_

_I did not wish to send news until I was sure. It seems that your precious Harry has ended his fling with that dreadful woman Eliza. Hermione was visiting the babies and she mentioned that Harry had changed the wards. Eliza is no longer welcome at the house. _

_You must rush here as soon as possible. I have written mother and father not to expect you and the Headmaster is aware that a coach will pick you up the evening you complete your exams. You are welcome to stay here at the cottage for as long as is necessary._

_Your Loving Sister,_

_Fleur _

**A/N: Thank you for your reviews both public and private. Also, thank you for adding my story as a favourite on your page. I just had another reader message me that they heard about the story by checking out another reader's page. Please let me know what you think about the chapter. **


	32. TP 32 Unexpected Answers

**Chapter 32 – Unexpected Headway**

**Submitted: Monday 6 August 2012 **

**Spoiler Alert: Last submission was last Wednesday or Thursday. Make sure you didn't miss a chapter.**

"Peck, peck peck..."

Harry didn't want to get out of bed but the pecking was unnerving. Kreacher had brought him a rather tasty plate of Eggs Benedict and all he wanted to do was sit in bed and finish his meal. He wondered if Pandora had flown out to stretch her wings and somehow gotten locked outside. Grudgingly, he got up and unfastened the window. As the frosted glass flew opened, Harry was bowled over by the largest owl he'd ever seen. In it's clutches was a basket which held two boxes bound in plain brown wrapping paper labelled _Gringotts_. The owl set them on the floor and flew to the perch that Pandora used when she rested in Harry's flat.

The owl stared at his breakfast hungrily enough that Harry felt nervous about sending him back without offering a bite. Reluctantly – they were good eggs – Harry held up his plate and offered the bird what was left. "This might not be your bag" Harry explained hopefully.

The owl inhaled them greedily. When he finished, he hooted a loud thanks and flew out the window without so much as waiting for a goodbye. Harry was left standing with an empty plate – licked clean. Blasted bird.

It took no time to unwrap the boxes. The first turned out to be the bound journal he'd sent to Gringott's to be translated. The second box held another bound book with a note attached. The note read, _Interesting read. The Muggles might consider this a historical find. If this genuine then this bloke witnessed some key events._

Harry glanced quickly through the translated version of the journal. Small notes were included by the translator who felt it necessary to explain certain customs of the time to give him perspective. Satisfied, Harry decided to make an afternoon of reading the remaining chapters and he headed down to the Sitting Room.

He set the wireless to this week's Quidditch Match between Holyhead and Ballycastle. If the Bats continued on their present course they'd be relegated to the Everyman's Quidditch League by the end of the season. Holyhead, on the other hand, was defending last year's Cup win ferociously and so far they were on pace to win a record number of points. Experts were using words like Dominant and Dynasty.

The wireless rattled on as Harry prepared himself a tea service before burying himself in his most comfortable overstuffed chair. He thumbed through the book while the action of the match played out in the back of his mind. Hermione would have made it a point to criticise him for not taking his reading seriously but fortunately this Saturday she was out of the house.

Ron had become suspicious of her odd behaviour and when she mentioned she had an appointment with a medical doctor he cocked an eyebrow, "Another check-up? Haven't you seen enough healers? Didn't you visit St. Mungo's just last week?"

A crooked smile crept across the witch's face, "Why, yes I did." She kissed her fiance before jetting off, "I am impressed that you remembered. It makes me feel special to know that you care."

"What's going on?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"I'm simply making sure that the healers didn't miss anything," she answered coyly. Harry was just as certain she was hiding something as Ron was but at the moment he was too interested in his bacon to make an issue of it. Besides, as moody as she'd been of late he was willing to be left in the dark if only to keep the peace. He let his mind wander until he was left wondering if bacon ice cream was as good as advertised.

"Harry?" Ron was waving a hand in front of his mate's blank stare. When he saw that Harry was paying attention, Ron repeated himself, "I said, I think she's hiding something."

"I know she's hiding something," Harry agreed as he crunched another piece of bacon.

"But what?" Ron was stumped.

"Dunno. Don't have a clue." Harry grinned between bites, "Maybe she's pregnant."

"Oy!" Ron laughed. "Don't even joke about something like that. Mum'd kill me! No, I think she's going and seeing Tinkles and Dumbles behind my back."

"But why would she hide that?"

"I dunno," Ron answered. "She's an odd bird at times."

So Harry ended breakfast by begging Kreacher to bring one of his famous plates of Eggs Benedict upstairs. That blasted buzzard had taken the last scrumptious bites of that and he was left with a book, a quidditch match and a craving for hollandaise sauce. He was tempted to ask Kreacher to whip him up another batch but he decided that would be taking advantage.

The translator was not kidding. The journal had been written by some bloke named Josephus and was riveting. It began with a recount of how he'd been captured just months before by the Romans. One excerpt read as follows:

_It was July when they caught up with us. We sat in the cave, forty of us, awaiting our fates. The Romans, Vespasian and his son Titus commanding, ordered our surrender. We, like many of our brethren, were determined not to give up. We had few options. If we were to fight, those captured would be tortured and crucified. If we took our own lives then our Maker would turn us away._

_We came up with a solution. We drew lots. Every third person would be killed by the others. We would repeat this until only one of us remained. Each round of lots I was forced to run my sword through one of my brethren who with tears in his eyes thanked me. Repeatedly, I watched the blood drain from their bodies and the life from their eyes. In less than an hour it was done. Bodies were strewn around the cave and the smell of death made me want to wretch. I was both the winner and the loser. My hands were covered in blood._

_I was forced to take on the responsibility of choosing either torture or an Eternity without my Maker. Surveying the room I realised I was already a murderer. I decided I didn't deserve an easy death._

Harry looked up from the journal. He shivered at the thought of having to kill his mates – even if it would save them from a fate worse than death. Harry kept reading the sad story.

_The Romans took pity on me. The General Titus asked me what had happened and I was too much in shock not to answer. Instead of torturing me they placed me in this cell and granted my request for this book so that I might confess my sins here on paper. When they'd found I'd been mayor they must have thought I'd have many sins because this is a rather large book. It will take me years to fill this._

Josephus wrote quite a bit over the next few months. He spilled all of his sadness about his fellow Judeans and how they'd driven the Romans to come and sweep through the countryside. He didn't sympathise with the cause. Then he was released:

_They've offered me my freedom if I can negotiate with my people. There are thousands under siege in Jerusalem and the Romans fear this could drag on for a year. They are afraid that it will turn out like what happened in the cave with me and my friends. I have family within and I can't stand the idea they would suffer a similar fate._

He successfully negotiated the end of the siege but it came with a cost. Harry felt tears well up when Josephus recounted how the bodies of his mother and wife had been brought before him. Somehow they had been found.

Josephus went on to speak about how he found a cave and made it his home while he looked for a sign. There he had the revelation that he and his people were doomed. Harry didn't quite understand all of the details but that is when the commentary of the translator came in handy. Josephus was predicting that his people, the people of Judea, would suffer years wandering the Earth and torment by the other peoples of the Earth. While Harry found this interesting, he was more interested in the next few entries.

It was a chance encounter that proved to change the life of Josephus.

_I am seen as a traitor to my people. I am shunned and in constant danger of death. I relish the idea of a quick end but my Maker sees it fit to keep me alive and punish me one day at a time._

_The General Titus came to me today and invited me to come with him and his father to Rome. Titus was impressed with the way I negotiated the siege and has convinced his father Vespasian to bring me as an advisor and historian. He has asked me to write an account of the Judean conflict as objectively as I can. Vespasian is popular with the Romans and he has been asked by his supporters to lay claim to the throne of Rome. How could I say no? _

_I have agreed to follow my patron to Rome. My hope is that with his absence, our people will have time to find peace. It is unlikely but a chance I must take. Titus and his father are clever strategists and my people will have a much easier time without them joining the battle._

Harry took a sip of tea before continuing. It wasn't until dinner that he found the excerpt he'd been looking for. He'd been skimming for an hour before finally finding it. As interesting as he found the story about how Vespasian became Emperor, Harry really didn't need to know about the relationship between Josephus and his new wife or his occasional bellyaching about finances. But there it was, the first mention of the necklace:

_Titus has again asked for my advice. His father's concubine, Caenis, was gifted a necklace by the palace steward who insisted it had been worn by the wives of each and every Caesar to date. Caenis is not allowed to marry Caesar Vespasian because of her previously being a slave but she is considered the Empress in all but name. It is such a strange culture here in Rome._

_When she saw the Necklace she screamed and insisted it was cursed. Caesar's son Titus has asked me to look into the origin of the necklace and advise him whether it is indeed cursed. It is said the necklace provides great beauty to the wearer and despite her protests, if it is considered safe he will insist she accept the gift._

A few entries later, Josephus was both excited and horrified:

_I had long ago lost my faith in the extraordinary. Between the needless deaths of my family and my people I was certain there was nothing more than darkness to be found once I met my end. This week I have learned that there is indeed powerful magic that exists in this world. The necklace brought to me by my friend Titus holds a powerful curse and I believe it has altered the fates of Rome's previous Emperors in a very dark way beginning with Augustus Caesar years ago. It is the only way to explain the awful ends of many of these rulers. _

_Can you believe that not one Emperor of Rome to date has been succeeded directly by a son? _

_Titus placed a good number of scribes in my charge to track down the origin of the necklace and I am almost certain it originated in Thebes. There are stories of a necklace very similar to this one being the famed Necklace of Harmonia. We have also had a local mystic confirm that the necklace exhibits definite magical properties. Lastly, my scribes have confirmed that the necklace was originally given to the Empress Scribonia as a gift from a Greek delegate at her wedding to Augustus Caesar._

_The history of the necklace is frightening. All sorts of ill luck fell upon the owners here in Rome – it seems the owners were victims of their own ambition. The story rings true with the owners in Greece. We are awaiting the arrival of a Greek mystic who is familiar with old Greek curses who will advise us on how to destroy this evil object. Titus laments the ship cannot possibly arrive fast enough._

Harry didn't have to thumb long through the journal to find the next entry about he necklace:

_The mystic has confirmed the necklace did belong to Harmonia of Thebes! In one sense I am thrilled to be so close to such an artefact. In another I am horrified at the implications. What is worse is that the mystic claims that there is no known way to destroy the necklace. He claims that the only person who might answer our questions to our satisfaction is Harmonia's father. When I claimed this would be impossible, one of the Caesar's mystics insisted there was a way. He claims that if we could get only a hair or a fingernail that we might speak to a spirit of the man._

_I am sceptical. Besides, how would we come across such a thing? _

Six months passed before another entry referenced Harmonia or the necklace:

_It is unbelievable! Titus and his father the Emperor believe they have found a link to the necklace. Caesar Vespasian has sworn an oath that before his dying breath he will make sure that this abomination will not do another man or woman harm. He staked a reward of a man's weight in gold if he provided a piece of living tissue of Hephaestus so that this might be settled. _

_A month ago a mysterious man arrived with three hairs he claimed were from a brush belonging to Hephaestus. The mystics then somehow used the hair to fashion a portrait that speaks! I have never seen such a thing but it does, I swear! Unfortunately, we found the hairs did not belong to Hephaestus but instead to his wife Aphrodite. Though she could not tell us how to destroy the necklace for sure, she insists that she might know a way to create a device that might hide and defend the necklace. She believes that if fashioned properly then this mechanism eventually might also destroy the necklace._

_The device has been commissioned to a smith from Cyprus by the name of Pygmalion. Strangely, he asked for a commission of only five gold coins and the last of Aphrodite's hairs. He has estimated that the device shall take a year to fashion but that it can be done. His sketches are as beautiful as anything I have ever seen. The Emperor was so impressed that he hung them in his library._

Harry's first thought was that the name Pygmalion sounded familiar. He continued to thumb through the journal but there was little more left to it. Six more pages and the journal was finished. By now it was well past dark and Harry wondered where everyone was. Then he remembered. Ron and Hermione had met up at the Burrow for dinner. He was excited by his find and he wanted to be around others. He quickly ran upstairs and through on some trousers and a shirt and then made for the Floo downstairs.

As he reached for a pinch of floo powder, Harry thought about what he wanted to say to Hermione about the journal. In the time it took to step into his Floo and step out at the Burrow, he decided she had enough going on in her life to bother her.

By then there was nothing more to think about. The squeal of delight Molly made when she caught Harry's outline in the Floo distracted him enough that he thought nothing more on it. She raced over to him and enveloped him in a gut-wrenching hug, "Harry! Harry! Harry! I was just saying how much we missed having you here! It's not often we have you at the Burrow that it isn't someone's birthday or funeral!"

"I think what Molly's trying to say," Arthur explained with a look of embarrassment, "is that we'd love to see you here more often." The elder Weasley shook his adopted son's hand, "How're things Harry? Come in and have a seat with the kids!"

Harry was glad he came. Molly was right. It'd been a long time since he'd been there without it being an occasion. He just felt like getting out of the house after spending all that time reading. He walked in and joined Ron and Hermione at the table. After another round of hellos and mock surprise they returned to the conversation, "I can't believe it's been three years."

"Ron," Arthur agreed, "It still seems like yesterday to me."

"Do you plan to do anything?" Hermione asked.

"Arthur and I agreed we will pay respects on Tuesday," Molly explained, "Since the Ministry set Wednesday aside as a holiday, we are going to have the family over at the house. Bill and Fleur are bringing the baby over and we will also celebrate her birthday. The boys will all be here, except Charlie of course, and George has already threatened some grand display. Can you come Harry?"

The look Harry got from Molly was filled with hope, "Of course, Mum."

"Don't forget a gift for Victoire, then," Molly reminded him. "You know how she is around you. If you forget her it'll ruin her whole day."

"I won't forget, Mum," Harry promised. "Besides, "I got her gift at the same time I got Teddy's."

"How is he?" Arthur asked. Harry and Ron shared a look.

"He's fine," Hermione answered for Harry. "But at his party he asked Harry why he couldn't live with him like all the other little boy's daddies."

"At three?" Molly was amazed. "Oh, Harry, that must have been terrible. What did you say?"

Again Harry was silent. Hermione took the liberty, "He's a smart little boy. And observant – just like his father. Harry did the best he could."

"I mussed the whole thing up," Harry admitted sadly, "but Hermione told him a whole story about how I'm actually a special kind of daddy and that his grandmother couldn't possibly do without him. By the time she was done he felt like he was the luckiest kid in the world. When he asked about where his mum was Hermione told him she'd tell him that story when he was five and that all he needed to know was that she was a hero."

"He doesn't know?" Molly asked.

Harry and Ron shrugged. Hermione explained, "Mrs. Tonks has never told him. She never could get up the nerve. According to her, this is the first time he's ever asked. She thinks he's afraid he'll hurt her feelings if he does. He's a very sensitive boy when it comes to other's feelings but he knows more than he let's on."

Molly seemed satisfied with the answer, "Harry could you ask Kreacher if he could make that dish that everyone enjoys so much. I've tried making it myself and it just never turns out right. I swear he's hiding an ingredient from me."

"He wouldn't do that," Hermione said soothingly.

"Oh yes he would," Ron answered with a devilish smile. "That elf has a whole side to him you don't even see." He looked at his girlfriend knowingly, "And you have him all worried that you want to get rid of him. Can't say I blame him with all the socks you left around the dorm that one year. He just wants to make sure he's irreplaceable."

Changing the subject, Hermione asked Harry, "How was your date with that one witch? What was her name? Eve? Eva?"

The glare that Harry fixed on Hermione was priceless, "We had to reschedule for Monday. Anyhow, it was just lunch. She's just a source."

Ron couldn't help but throw his lot in, "Just a source? A source for what? You told Ewan and me yesterday that you'd wrapped up your last file and you needed something to do."

Harry's voice was measure, "It's for something I'm working on on the side."

"Is that a good idea, mate?" Ron asked with a voice full of mischief. The last time you worked an investigation off the books it didn't turn out so well." Ron wilted under Harry's venomous stare, "But what do I know?"

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Despite his protests to the Weasleys, he really had been looking forward to this lunch. As caddy as it seemed, this date, as he now thought of it, was also a sort of rebellion against Eliza. He hadn't dated at all since they'd split up. Honestly, though, that was only because he'd been trying to work up the nerve to try and get in contact with Ginny.

Argh! He had to get Ginny out of his head. Harry closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten.

He opened his eyes and found her standing there. It was her bare shoulders he couldn't take his eyes away from. All that covered them were two spaghetti straps that led to a most beautiful dress. Unlike Ginny, her fair shoulders didn't have a freckle or a blemish on them.

Her dress was as carefree as she was. Made especially for spring, it was cut just low enough up top and high enough on the bottom to turn wizards' heads as she walk by. The ocean blue fabric even matched her eyes.

"Are you going to offer me a seat," she asked with an impish smile, "or would you rather just sit their thinking wicked thoughts?"

"I, erm...Would you like...?"

"I'd love to," she answered mercifully. She was enjoying this but Harry paid no notice. "I took the afternoon off and thought I might dress a little more..._casually_. There's something to be said for looking your best but it can be uncomfortable at times. And besides, it's _Spring_..." she gestured dreamily.

"Well...you look stunning." Harry still couldn't get his eyes or his thoughts off those beautiful bare shoulders.

"Thank you!" For effect she tossed her hair playfully. Then, leaning forward, she wound a strand of hair around a finger and asked, "I heard that you recently ended things with that witch Eliza?"

Harry nodded an emphatic yes.

Words could not describe the joy on Eva's face. She'd never had difficulty in taking the lead and this was no exception. She took Harry by the hand and declared, "Then we should go out!"

"Where?"

Eve could only smile to herself. It's not like Harry was daft. He was simply distracted. Casually, she opened her bag and searched for a moment. Soon she found it, "Excuse me but I'm feeling a bit of a draft in here."

As she placed the cardigan over her shoulders he finally found himself looking her in the eyes, "You mean, like, go on a date?"

"Yes!" she answered. "There are loads of things to do here in London. The Muggles have all sorts of things to do and there's a new dance club called Hags and Hassles in Liverpool."

Harry thought on it, "Maybe dancing another time? I'm not quite rubbish on the floor but I really should get to know you better before crushing your toes." He asked her apprehensively, "How would you like to go to a party with some of my mates and family to celebrate the end of the war? I'd be one of the few without a date anyhow. I'll warn you, they'll all be watching you."

"Would I mind? That'd be brilliant! The more the better!" she insisted. Happy that they'd settled on a date, she pulled off the sweater and put it back in her bag before ordering. He honestly couldn't remember much about what they spoke about after that. His honestly couldn't explain why he was so fixated on something so mundane as shoulders but her's were just so perfect.

Shoulders...why shoulders?

ZZZZZZZ

Marianne was sitting in her cubicle when Harry returned for lunch. She'd moved next to Harry's cubicle months before so they could work more efficiently. When he sat down she handed him a file, "New case. Ewan insisted it was perfect for us."

Translated, that meant, 'Ewan thinks Harry can intimidate those involved with his reputation and the truth will spew out of them before end of afternoon.' Thrilling.

"Anything I need to know?" Harry asked.

His partner grinned, "If you want, you can just stand there with your arms crossed looking all angry and such while I perform the interview. If I mention your name then pull out your wand, like usual." Harry rolled his eyes. Sadly, she was serious. She was matter-of-fact about it, "Look, I've already read up on the file. If this goes the way I think it should then we will have the final report written up by end of the afternoon. Do you really want to waste time reading in?"

It didn't take any more convincing than that. Soon they'd taken the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. After tapping open the entrance to the Alley with his wand, they strolled along until the obligatory left at Knockturn Alley and soon even the skies seemed darker.

While they had rid the world of most of the Death Eaters, it was generally acknowledged that there would always be a certain darker side to magic. That darker side would always reside somewhere. While most only dabbled in the dark arts as youngsters as a matter of rebellion, there were always the riff-raff that would never go away and must always be watched. For every witch that was sent to Azkaban there was a wizard willing to take her place. If one focused on this fact then it was easy to become jaded as an Auror. It was something Harry had a hard time accepting.

Soon they were in front of a shop. A black cat stretched in the window before rubbing itself up to a shrunken head. "You ready?" his partner asked lightly.

Harry felt a shiver as if someone were watching him. He looked around. While the street wasn't busy there were many eyes on him. He decided that must be it, "Yeah, do your thing."

He didn't hear much else from that point forward. He stood there bored as he put on his most severe scowl. She identified them to the proprietor and went on about something somebody had done to somebody and how it was obviously illegal. All the while, the proprietor didn't so much as look at her. His eyes stared squarely at Harry as if he were going to turn into a dragon at any moment and eat the bloke up in one bite. Harry just stared back...making sure to promise with his stare that it'd be even worse than the shop-owner imagined.

Then the magic words escaped out of Marianne's mouth, "I'm a reasonable witch but you know how Harry feels about the dark arts. He's been aching to make an example out of somebody today."

Harry pulled out his wand and the old toothless wizard couldn't confess fast enough, "No, no, no! It's not necessary! I'll tell you anything you want!" The wizard implored her, "I promise to tell the truth or my name isn't Izzy Ratchet! I didn't mean to sell it to her that way! I didn't even know it had the curse on it! But I did sell it to her. I admit it."

Marianne smiled the smile of victory, "That's all we needed to know. You'll need to come to us to the Ministry. I can bind your hands loosely or tightly depending on if you plan to resist."

"Loosely! Loosely!" he begged. "We can even take my Floo! I won't put up no trouble!"

His partner shared a look with him and again Harry rolled his eyes. She then pulled out her want and used the appropriate charms to secure the bloke's hands and retrieve his wand. Before they left Izzy asked, "Would you mind at least closing up the shop? Maybe lock the door and change the sign in the widow?"

As Harry did as he was asked, he again felt the tingle of someone watching. He peered out the window but saw nothing. Shrugging, he took the Floo back to the Ministry with Marianne and their prisoner.

As they checked in and registered Izzy for holding, the shop-keeper looked at Harry hopefully, "If I were to know something about that business at the Cauldron a few months back would it perhaps keep me out of Azkaban?"

The two Aurors shared a look. Marianne read Harry's thoughts perfectly. He was doing everything he could do not to grab Izzy by the throat and yank the information out of him. Instead, Marianne asked, "What do you know? I'd speak quickly. That was one of Harry's mates that was hurt and he's a bit protective of those he cares about."

"Erm..." Izzy felt he might be pressing his luck but in his mind Azkaban and Harry were equally frightening, "If I knew their names would it help keep me out of Azkaban."

Marianne thought to herself quickly. Normally deals were run by the Head Auror before discussed with a criminal but if she said no it might create a very ugly scene. Harry was a terrific bloke of great character but his temper could get the better of him and he did not always view the law above what was right. He'd come dangerously close to vigilante action when it was obvious the law wouldn't remedy a wrong in the past. Auror work was not his true calling but he was painfully proficient at it.

Izzy's crime had been to sell a cursed head to a witch who'd planned to use it as a ward. The curse was forbidden and had nearly killed the witch. His crime in this case was more negligence than anything else but because he dealt with dark wards it made the negligence even more troublesome. Likely he'd only get a month or so in Azkaban considering there was no actual intent.

"I can't promise you I can get you off entirely," Marianne explained, "but if you were to share everything you know then I think we could work something out. You'd have to share everything and you'd have to know names and perhaps where to find them."

"If you can keep me out of Azkaban," Izzy promised, "I'll tell whoever you want whatever you want. There were three of them and they belong to a group. I know a few of their names. Some even work here!"

Marianne cringed when her partner answered, "Yes, Izzy. I can personally guaranty you will not go to Azkaban. Let's speak in the next room."

**A/N: Anyone else get the odd feeling that Harry's looking for trouble? I can't wait to see what you think. **


	33. TP 33 Anniversaries

**Chapter 33 – Anniversary**

Submitted: Sunday 19 August 2012

While the much of the wizard world spent the first night of May mourning the anniversary of the beginning of the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry took a more proactive approach to dealing with his pain.

The day before, Izzy Ratchet had provided Harry with information about several wizards that made up to a secret society called Path to Perfection. These were not Death Eaters but they were dangerous in their own way. Their mission was to achieve blood purity by the end of the twenty-first century. Once Izzy provided the names of the members and the location of their hideout, Harry walked the information straight to Ewan and Ron.

"Bugger!" Ron blurted out. "Half of these names are Ministry officials. Are you sure?"

Ewan passed a glance to Ron, "The other names are legitimate. We've been looking for most of them for what's seemed like ages now."

"I'm thinking we raid the place and get confessions from those hiding out," Harry explained, "and we use the information as proof that the Aurors and other officials are involved."

"But we need to learn more before we move forward," Ron argued. "If we go after these then there'll still be Merlin knows how many more out there."

Harry scowled at his mate severely, "How many attacks have there been since Hannah?" When neither answered he answered for them, "Don't think I haven't been keeping track...three. If you lot aren't interested then I'll go by myself. I imagine it won't turn out well for any of us. I will be in Azkaban and once I'm done with them they'll wish they were there with me."

While Ewan didn't take Harry's threat seriously he did like the idea of finally doing something. He'd always feared that Ministry employees were involved. The fact that these Aurors, if guilty, had access to this office meant that they could be have been funnelling information the entire time.

Ewan shrugged his shoulders, "I'll speak to Robards and the Minister. It'll need to be done quietly...do not share this information with anyone."

Harry smiled, "I also need that bloke Izzy's punishment knocked down to a fine and a warning."

"Bugger!" Ewan shouted. Harry didn't care.

* * *

><p>The house was actually part of an estate of a well to do member of the Wizengamut that he apparently had donated to 'the Cause.' It was laughable, really. In the space of twenty four hours they learned that the bloke had the audacity to use the property as a tax write-off by having Path to Perfection registered as a charity <em>'meant for the promotion of a better England.'<em> One of the Ministry officials that Izzy had named was listed on the charter and was an officer in the organisation. The charter listed other members that Izzy had failed to name as officers and heavy donors as well. Three of them were Ministry employees.

Harry was placed at the vanguard of the raid and would be first to enter. It was hoped that the sight of Harry would make the wizards lay down their wands without much of a fight. Ron would oversee the raid alongside Ewan and headed up the tactical arrangements. Harry had an earpiece just like the one he'd used in the raid of Malfoy Manor a day short of three years before. He had come full circle in those three years. He now was taking on the role that Shacklebolt had taken and he relished it.

Waiting, Harry thought he'd ask, "Don't you think it's strange they didn't place the Fidelius Charm on the home?"

Ewan looked up from what he was doing, "There are only a handful of wizards who have the knowledge or ability to use the charm. The fact that you can do it still amazes me. Dumbledore and Flitwick were always rather protective of the spell."

"Really?" Harry had never considered it uncommon given how many he knew that used it. "Hermione knows it. So does Ron's brother Bill. Snape and Voldemort and a few of the Death Eaters..."

"No," Ewan corrected him. "Snape was unable to master the spell. Moody knew it as well as Flitwick but even Shacklebolt is unable to cast a proper Fidelius to my knowledge. The only Death Eater that I'm aware of that could cast the spell besides Voldemort was Carrow."

"The brother?" Harry asked.

"Oh no. The sister was by far the more talented of the two," Ewan explained. "Everyone's in position. You ready?"

"Aye."

When the signal was given, Harry dashed for the door. Unlike Shacklebolt, Harry had decided to use his broom to shave precious seconds. He didn't want to risk them being prepared. With wand in hand he shot forward. The other Aurors hadn't expected Harry to fly full speed and they cursed as he quickly left them behind.

By the time he reached the door he was well ahead of everyone. Preparing to land, he fired a silent "Confringo" and the entire home shook as the door splintered inward. Like he'd done so many times after a Quidditch match, he threw his leg over his broom and hit the ground in stride. The entry was perhaps haphazard but he had too much adrenaline coursing through him to care. He dropped his broom as he cleared the entry and he kept his eye out for threats. His hope was to see a look of surprise as he entered.

And surprise he had! Twelve eyes shot up from a card game to Harry's right as he sprinted past. As he slowed himself down he lowered his wand and fired off a barrage of stunners. The wall opposite the door approached quickly and he lowered his shoulder to cushion the blow. If he was right, he'd dropped three at the card table.

He didn't have time to look. There'd been blokes to his left as well. He didn't know how many or what they'd been doing but he'd seen them out of the corner of his eye as he'd rushed in.

He turned. There _were_ three...but one had already grabbed an object on the table and disappeared with a blink. The other two still had forks in their mouths and stared at Harry dumbly as he fired stunners at them both. Oomphs could be heard as they rolled out of their chairs and onto the floor.

Again Harry returned his attention to the card table behind him and he was lucky he did. He was right. Three of the blokes at the card table had been stunned and they were lying frozen on the floor. The other three had finally overcome shock and two had wands out. They both fired off spells as the third ported out. Harry blocked both curses just in time with a powerful shield. Brilliant streaks of red and purple rebounded into the walls with pops.

Harry replied with a stunner and caught the shorter of the two wizards as he tried to cast a second curse. The other bloke had shielded up and Harry imagined he was likely the best of the lot at duelling.

If Harry had been counting he'd have known only four seconds had passed from the time he'd cleared the door to now. It would be nine more seconds before his team would join him. That nine seconds would seem like an eternity.

A light-show of flashes and sparks erupted in the cabin as Harry and his opponent cast combos of stunners and disarming charms with blazing speed. Harry was barely holding his own. The wizard, tall and lanky, held Harry carefully in his gaze as he fired spell after spell from his wand. The wizard was at least forty but appeared as delighted as a boy casting a spell for the first time. Little did Harry know but he was matching the wizard smile for smile.

Both moved around the room as they parried and dodged. Often Harry found himself out of position and only at the last moment would he recover quickly enough to keep himself from being caught by a curse or stunner.

It wasn't that Harry was slow. His opponent was dizzyingly fast. At first Harry cast two spells to the blokes three. By the end of the exchange it was closer to two to four. The walls were quickly marked up by the errant and ricocheted spells.

Then it came. Harry made a terrible mistake. The lanky wizard had caught Harry off-guard with a curse and Harry overcompensated by flourishing his wand higher in the air than normal to add some oomph to the shield. The wizard knew Harry was out of position. With a toothless grin, the dark wizard barked,_"Avada Kedavra!" _Out of position from the previous parry, Harry found himself unable to move.

As the green streak shot from his opponent's wand Harry heard a thunk from the front door and saw his opponent's eyes search for the noise. The wizard's wand twitched and the curse passed harmlessly over Harry's shoulder - scorching the faded wallpaper behind him. Two red flashes threw the lanky wizard off his feet and he crumpled to the floor. Harry had been saved because the wizard had caught the arrival of the other Aurors out of the corner of his eye and flinched.

Harry found himself huffing and puffing as he slouched and sucked wind. His knees grew weak and he quickly found a chair to collapse into. His ears rang as he fought the urge to pass out.

Strangely, he could feel himself shaking a little but otherwise he felt great. He felt alive again for the first time in what seemed like ages. Not since the exchange at the Leaky Cauldron months before had he felt such a high. This is what he'd imagined being an Auror would be like when he'd dreamed of joining. As the ringing died down he finally answered, "What?"

The Aurors had been shouting at him all along. Aurors Kelly and Dandrell were older and were known to take protocol seriously, "I said, 'that was bloody reckless!'" Dandrell repeated. The darker-haired Auror, Kelly, was by now disinterested and was methodically binding the seven stunned captives that lie on the floor. Dandrell began searching the home for clues linking the inhabitants to the crimes they were accused of as he continued to berate Harry, "Did you not hear everyone shouting in your earpiece to slow down?"

"I wanted to surprise them," Harry countered. Harry began searching the captives for familiar faces. Immediately he recognised two of them from the night of the attack on Hannah. He levitated the two and prepared to leave.

"Surprise?" Already, other Aurors were making their way in to clear the scene. A few had stopped to watch Dandrell dress Harry down, "You're a Nutter! You were almost killed by that bloke! If we hadn't stepped in..."

"...But you did step in," Harry argued. He began carrying to two prisoners out the door, "See? I'm fine."

As Harry walked out he heard the other Auror, Kelly, grumble under his breath, "Just like his bleedin' father..."

Harry would have charged back in there and started a row but he refused to take the bait. Instead he popped his head back in and interrupted the bloke mid-sentence, "...Yeah, my dad was a fair flyer too."

* * *

><p>Ron and Ewan both had a piece of Harry once they returned to the Ministry. Ewan's shouting Harry was able to tune out but Ron's hit closer to home, "What in bloody hell would you have me tell Hermione if you'd been killed in there? You know she'd ask how it happened and I'd have to tell her that I chose you to go in ahead of everyone else. I can just hear her now..."<p>

Harry tried to answer but Ron cut him off, "Don't even start. I don't want to hear any bloody excuses! You're a bloody adult now, Harry! We're not a bunch of Firsties sneaking about the Third Floor! We are Aurors, Harry! You could have just as easily gotten someone else hurt as yourself because they had to barge in behind you!

Quieting down, Ron took the guilt approach and summoned his inner Molly,

"Hermione'd be devastated as would Mum and Dad. I could care less if we got those blokes if I lost you doing it. You aren't some action star in those cinematics that Dean fancies. Don't get me wrong, you're a fair duellist but there were nine wizards in there."

"But I caught them by..." Harry tried to insist.

Ron cut him off, "Surprise? I heard all about it. One of them almost caught you **DEAD** Harry! And don't you dare say 'almost'!"

Harry would have answered but Ron stormed out.

Harry knew what this really was. Just like they would a criminal, they were watching him from behind a glass. They were trying to decide if he was fit for duty. Admittedly, hat he had done had been stupid. He just couldn't help himself. It was that yearning for adrenaline that Dumbledore had warned Harry about soon after he'd defeated Voldemort. Harry was restless. Despite the fact that charging in alone had been epically foolish he thought he'd faired rather well. He did drop six fully grown wizards in one exchange.

Soon Ewan returned and sat across from Harry. He'd already had a piece of the young wizard so now he was simply reading Harry's face. Ewan sat and stared.

Harry leaned in, "If you plan to unnerve me then your going to get nowhere. I could have easily punched Kelly for his cheek about my dad but I didn't. I'm of sound mind. I just got excited and I acted foolishly. If it makes you feel any better I'm going to hear all about it tomorrow night – Ron'll make sure of that."

Ewan seemed somewhat satisfied, "We've gathered together the suspected Ministry employees but we need proof of some sort to keep them. Do you feel like interrogating the two that sacked the Cauldron? I need them to implicate the others. I just can't have you hurting them."

This was big. They only had one shot and Harry knew Ewan was placing a tremendous amount of trust in him, "You don't think I'll get angry with them and muck the whole thing up?"

"I suspect you'll get just angry enough. Besides, I heard the exchange between you and Kelly. Not cursing him into oblivion was probably the one sane thing you did tonight."

* * *

><p>And so it was settled. At this very hour three years before Harry had walked into the Forbidden Forest certain he was sacrificing himself for the greater good. That night he had been more than a little scared but he knew he was doing the right thing. He had wanted to bawl as he walked by the dead bodies of poor Colin and all of his mates.<p>

Tonight he was neither scared nor sad. His only emotion was anger. As he opened the door to the interrogation room he summoned up all of his determination. Inside he found the two blokes from the Cauldron and his partner Marianne. "There he is," Marianne announced with a sombre look, "Harry, you look awful calm for a bloke who's just found the wizards that raped your mate."

"We did no such thing," the shorter one claimed. "We just tore at her clothes a little. We were told to scare her and he got there before..."

"Before?" Marianne asked.

"Nuthin'"

Harry looked down at a folder full of notes, "You must be Devlin." He'd been the one carrying the portkey. "And you must be Fife," he said to the taller one. That had been the one he'd tackled downstairs after the others ported out."

Neither answered.

"She's told you why your here?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, for that business at the Cauldron," Devlin snarked. "You think you have something on us and you want us to roll over and tell you about our mates. You think we'll cut a deal to avoid Azkaban. I don't mind a few months there. I been there before...Dementors don't get so close as they used to. It izn't so bad any more."

Fife looked less sure about the prospect of spending time at Azkaban. Even at the mention of the place he shivered.

Harry flashed a wicked smile, "I'm not here to offer you any deal. You're probably safer at Azkaban anyhow. Once I tell Hannah's husband where he can find you, you'll wish the dementors had given you a big wet kiss."

Harry pretended to study his folder, "No, we gathered up a few Aurors and other wizards from different departments here at the Ministry. Knowing they were members of your group - I like the name Path to Perfection by the way – we asked them if they were aware of your activities. It's seems you've been busy."

Devlin and Fife shared a look of confusion. It was Devlin who spoke, "Busy?"

"Don't get me wrong," Harry focused on Devlin, "As a wizard I'm disgusted. But as an Auror? Just out of professional courtesy, I'm impressed. I don't think any one wizard has attacked so many families in so short of a time. Even Voldemort left most of his work to his minions. I just can't see how you got all of those powerful blokes at the Ministry to follow you."

Fife hadn't grasped what Harry was getting at but Devlin eyes widened, "What in bleedin' hell are you going on about?"

"That Auror Henry told us everything. We sat down with him and all those Ministry folk and they insisted that you and Fife here were in charge of the whole thing. The bloke from the Wizengamut said you even convinced him to give you his house. You must have struck some kind of fear in him the way he spoke about you. And those Aurors said you had performed fourteen attacks on what you called," Harry read from the file, "_Filthy Blood Traitors..._"

"So?" asked Devlin. He was trying to act brave but he was looking more and more unsure by the moment.

"So," Harry answered, "Some of the attacks were on families of members of the Wizengamut. There's talk they want to allow the dementors to get _**much**_ closer to you. In fact a few have been clamouring for Shacklebolt to authorise "The Kiss."

"Wait, wait, wait..." Devlin quickly backtracked in a panic. It was one thing to take credit for all of the terrorizing but he had no interest in actually having his soul ripped from his body by a foul dementor, "I won't deny we were at that pub the night you interrupted us but there is no way we attacked all of those families!"

This was never part of the job Harry enjoyed. Often when interrogating he was forced to deal in half-truths. Harry normally pawned interrogations off on Marianne when he could but tonight he relished the game. He wanted these two to fear for their lives.

Marianne cut in, "It's too bad that we have no way to prove anything. It's just your word against theirs. With them being Ministry officials and you being criminals they'll probably have you discredited. Who knows how many other members of Path to Perfection there are on the Wizengamut. They won't mind at all pinning all of this on you. And how will anyone know once you've been _kissed_?"

Harry waited before he pulled the hook. He gave Devlin time to think through the ramifications of what was being said and Harry could hear the bloke gulp.

"Of course," Harry pretended to muse, "If either of you have any memories of any of them discussing what they'd done, that would be enough of a defence. Memories would be difficult for the Wizengamut to ignore..."

"Yes!" Devlin now seemed ready to do anything to avoid being kissed. Fife was still trying to wrap his mind around what was being said. Devlin pointed his head, "They all liked to brag and one-up each other on what they did. I could show you. You'd see that we only did the one attack. In fact, that Auror Henry and his mates were the ones who ordered us to go to the pub!"

"Excellent," Harry said. "I just happen to have a few vials right here."

* * *

><p>By Wednesday, Ron's and Harry's opinions had reversed. Given a night of sleep, Harry had realised that what he had done was no only foolish but just plain stupid. Ron, on the other hand, when given the opportunity to tell the story, made Harry sound like a hero out of one of his comic magazines.<p>

"You took on six wizards?" George asked.

"Nine," Ron answered for his mate. "And you should have seen the way he dismounted from his broom. He was like a gazelle. It was one fell motion from the time he blew the door to the time he ran through the entrance."

"Why didn't you wait for the others?" Arthur asked disapprovingly.

"He surprised them all, dad," Ron again answered.

Hermione couldn't help but giggle when she caught the exchange between Harry and Eva. Ron had started the whole business over dinner. He told the entire story seemingly without stopping for air. Harry was positively pink. Eva obviously was impressed by the story but her glance was of sympathy for his obvious dislike of being in the spotlight.

Ron had participated in dozens of raids now and not only had he orchestrated them but he'd also performed admirably in many of them. It was not hard to see, though, that Harry had never stopped being his real life hero. Never did Ron tell a story about himself with such enthusiasm as he did when Harry had done something spectacular.

It also wasn't hard for Hermione to see that Fleur was watching Harry and Eva as closely as she was. Hermione could see the wheels spinning in Fleur's head. Fleur had tried to set up Harry with her sister before and she didn't appear to fancy Eva at all.

Molly spoke up, "I'm just pleased to hear you weren't hurt, Harry. I do hope you will be more careful in the future. This family has lost enough already." She looked out the window.

"Yes, Mum," answered Harry contritely. He knew exactly where her gaze had fallen.

Hoping to change the mood, Arthur stood up, "I'm just happy that all of you were able to make it for 'V Day.' I'd like us to make this a regular event."

Victoire stood up on her knees on her chair and placed her hands on her hips, "It's nawt 'V-Day.' It's Victwoiree Daay. Uncul Hawry even fowrgot."

Bill did not look pleased, "Victoire, sit down right now!"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle, "I didn't forget your birthday, little V. I have your gift right here."

Victoire's eyes lit up when he opened a small bag that had hung from his neck just under his shirt. From it he pulled out a much bigger box. Already she'd sat down properly and had her little hands tucked under her legs to show she was sitting nicely. She batted her eyelashes at her daddy.

"Get on with it," Bill grumbled to his daughter. He smiled as his little girl ran up and threw her arms around Harry's neck.

"What's that for?" Harry asked with mock surprise. He caught the huge grin on Eva's face as she witnessed the exchange between him and the precious little girl. He winked.

"Dat's fowr me favewitt uncul," Victoire answered cheerily. She took the gift and happily stumbled back to her chair under the weight."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." George protested to the others, "Oy, how did I lose out to a bloke who isn't even he uncle?"

"I didn't know you could spell," Percy cheeked.

"What did Merlin do with my family?" George asked. "Harry is the favourite? Percy is funny? Mum hasn't cleared the dishes yet?"

"I was waiting for you to do it," Molly cheeked. "Get on with it boy!" She was every bit serious. She motioned to the others, "While George is cleaning let's retire to the Sitting Room and see what little Victoire got from her Uncle Harry."

"Yay!" Victoire cheered.

George, realising he'd been out-manoeuvred, accepted defeat and got to work. Everyone else filed out and found a seat on a chair or sofa. Fleur used Victoire's gift as an excuse to sit on the other side of Harry from Eva. She rested her head on Harry's shoulder leaving Eva to wonder. Harry, used to the treatment, was oblivious.

"What is it?" Bill asked as his daughter ripped the wrapping paper from the gift in the same way a cyclone would rip a home from its foundation.

Victoire tried to open the box but wasn't strong enough. She shrugged.

Bill laughed, "Well, let me see."

When he opened the box, everyone heard a sweet, "Meow."

"Kitty! Hawry got me a kitty!"

"It's not a real kitty!" Harry insisted to the suddenly cold Veela beside him. "I thought of the idea when I got Teddy's gift."

The kitten jumped out of its box. "Awww" could be heard from many of those watching. Harry explained, "She's told me about how much she's wanted a kitten forever but I knew she had allergies."

George got a gander and almost let the dishes crash to the floor, "Who made it? It looks real."

"It was something I'd seen in Sydney," Harry answered. "I got in contact with the shop owner right after Teddy's birthday. I can get you his information."

"Definitely," George agreed. "I might have to see about a few for the shop.

The kitten was just like a real kitten but it was an unreal shade of pink. Victoire held it close as it purred away. The only differences were that it wasn't alive, it's fur was hypo-allergenic and it had no claws.

Fleur whispered in his ear, "If you weren't her favoureete before theen you are now."

* * *

><p>"What was that all about?" Eva asked as they strolled toward the apparition point at the front gate.<p>

"What?"

"Floor. She was all over you. Isn't Bill her husband?"

Harry laughed, "It's Fleur. And she's harmless."

"I like my pronunciation better," Eva groused. "If she's that harmless then why did she keep looking at me like she'd found me stuck under one of her shoes? She doesn't fancy me one bit."

"I'm sorry." Harry frowned, "You didn't have a good time, did you?"

"I had a brilliant time," she finally smiled. "To see you around family...the way Victoire adores you? You are going to be a wonderful father."

"But?" Harry asked nervously.

"There is no but." Eva's eyes sparkled in the moonlight, "All that's left is a kiss in the country under the stars."

Her pink lips were so inviting. Harry was about to acquiesce but as he tilted his head he caught a glimpse of the Burrow. Memories of Ginny raced through his mind and he lost his nerve.

"Eve, could we go somewhere else? It's a bit odd doing this here."

Eva turned and saw what had caught his eye. Remembering his history with a certain world famous Seeker, she understood.

"Certainly." She took his hand, "I know the perfect place."

* * *

><p><em>2 May 2001<em>

_My Dearest Seamus,_

_I wish I could see you as well. It is so lonely tonight and I have no-one to speak to. And I have so much to say. I have spent the whole afternoon in tears. The skies must agree because it has rained the entire afternoon._

_Why the tears? Two years ago today my life changed in ways I will never be able to describe. Fenrir took so much from me - things I don't even dare share with you for fear that you'd never speak to me again. I've never told anyone but because of Fenrir I can never have children. I have dreamed all of my life of the day that I would be happily married with a beautiful little girl of my own. Now it will never be._

_It is days like this that I yearn to see you just for the comfort of your arms around me. I know what you are thinking and I beg you not to ask. Tonight I might say Yes and if I were to do so then all would be lost. Please just send me a note saying that you look forward to seeing me on the eve of the next new moon. Please do this for me...and tell me you love me. Tonight more than ever I need to see those three words in your writing._

_With a Heart Full of Yearning,_

_L.B._

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've written and rewritten this chapter – particularly the action sequences. I'm also working on a one-shot that was inspired by the work of another writer. Hopefully it will be posted by the end of the week.**

**Aphrodite's Kiss is a little longer than I anticipated. I suppose that's the nature of serial writing. The plot is beginning to wind down. Next week we are headed to Rome. For now, please let me know what you think about the action sequence and if there was anything you particularly enjoyed or disliked. Cheers! **


	34. TP 34 Duplicity

**Chapter 34 – Duplicity**

**Submitted: Sunday 16 September 2012 Last Submission: A Month Ago**

The fall of Path to Perfection was the talk of Wizard England. Sadly, most of the talk was about Harry's '_daring advance on the enemy_' and the fact that he '_single-handedly duelled nine wizards into submission' _than any real facts regarding what Path to Perfection was_._ _**The Daily Prophet**_ focused on his '_fantastic flight into the belly of death._' _**Witch Weekly**_ touted his work with his wand as he '_zapped down the evil-doers with the precision of a duelling master._' _**The Quibbler**_ oddly got it the most right, '_Harry's foolhardy storm into the bowels of the enemy proved fruitful if only because it took his opponents off guard._'

Lost in a byline buried deep in _**Witch Weekly**_ was a story about the secret rise of Path to Perfection and how they'd quietly patterned themselves after the Death Eaters of early years. The writer, a Pure Blood, estimated that all Path to Perfection had lacked was a powerful and charismatic leader.

Most witches barely even bothered to read the article. They saw PtP as little more than common hooligans. Primarily, this was because the victims had been so secretive about the attacks – the common witch and wizard had never been privy to the extent of the danger. Writers were more interested in sensational quotes from PtP members like Auror Henry Dodson. _**The Daily Prophet**_ quoted the recently sacked Auror Henry as saying, '_It sickens me that Ron Weasley was even allowed to become an Auror.' _An obscure publication by the name of _**Bloodlines**_ quoted him as saying_, The fact that Ron Weasley led this Inquiry disgusts me_. _ His family is the worst sort of Blood Traitors. One day we shall have our revenge._'

June followed May and Harry finalised his plans for Rome. He'd read the translated journal of Josephus cover to cover several times now. He was certain that Pygmalion had left some sort of evidence in Rome as to the nature of the device that protected the necklace. Harry knew that there were sketches that, if preserved, would show him exactly what he was looking for.

His greatest fear was that the statue in the basement of the Palace at Olympia was the device that had protected the necklace. It would make sense. The stories of the statue killing those that came near...the scars on her stone shoulders where the necklace might have rested. If the statue had defended the necklace then it had obviously failed and he was back to the beginning.

Hermione was hurt at first that he had not invited her but she also seemed relieved as well. It was left unsaid that he was following a lead for the necklace. The only hint that she offered that she knew was a disappointed, "Let me know what you find when you get back."

Just before he left, he went on one last date with Eva. As usual, it was a date of her choosing. She hadn't asked to go eat or go dancing. Tonight she preferred a stroll...a rather unusual stroll. As walked along the cobblestone path in the dark, Harry asked, "Why a cemetery?"

"Why not?" asked the giddy witch beside him. She waved her glowing wand from stone to stone and focused past the glimmer to read the markers.

He had to admit that her enthusiasm was a joy to watch, "Do you do this all the time?"

"No," she answered...as if she were barely listening. "Aha!"

"What?"

Eva's wand lit up the stone so brightly that his eyes didn't have time to adjust, "It's here! He's finally here!"

"Who?"

By now Eva was totally ignoring him. Instead she pulled out a towel and began waving it in the air as if she expected someone or something to appear out of the sky. Harry watched for what had to be two or three minutes, incredulous, until she finally gave up and put her towel away. She looked genuinely disappointed.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked, "and who is this?"

"Only the most brilliant bloke in the whole wide world! My dad played old albums of his for me when I was a little girl. He had this fantastic series on the BBC about space travel and all sorts of things like time travel. He died last month while in the states and they just moved his body here."

"What was the whole towel thing about?"

Eva smiled and pulled out a dog-eared book, "Why don't you read this during your trip and maybe you'll find out for yourself?"

Harry took the book and gave the headstone a good long look, "This is the reason we came here?"

She batted her eyelashes, "You don't like your surroundings? This is considered one of the most romantic places in all of London."

He couldn't help but snort, "Romantic? It's a _cemetery_. Good things don't usually happen to me in cemeteries."

"Ignore the headstones," Eva coaxed. She wrapped her arms around him...fully prepared to kiss him, "Listen to the sounds of nature around you. Focus on the beauty."

And for a moment he was focused on the beauty...of the witch in front of him. Her eyes shimmered in the light until she snuffed her wand. She bit her lip playfully making him shiver involuntarily. He couldn't help but kiss those beautiful lips. He'd never really had much luck with cemeteries in the past but it didn't take long for him to decide that Highgate Cemetery was in fact a romantic place.

* * *

><p>A portkey would have been easier. Instead, he entered and exited a series of Floos that began in London and passed through France. From London to Dover to Calais to Nice to Milan and finally to Rome. It was explained that travelling extra long distances by Floo caused disorientation and dizziness. "Headaches are common as well," a Ministry employee explained.<p>

Harry wasn't due at the Italian Ministry for a good hour so he and his guide decided to catch lunch at a local _ristorante_. He'd had pizza at a few of the Muggle restaurants in London but they were nothing like the Roman style pizza offered here. He'd expected a soft crust with some red sauce and cheese cooked with pepperoni on top. Instead he was treated to a thin crust and heaps of gooey cheese. His guide originally had recommended Pizzeria da Baffetto but Harry decided after only minutes in the long que that it was not the place for him. Instead, he convinced his guide to take him to a small anonymous ristorante and they enjoyed their meal at a table toward the back.

As he sank his teeth into a warm gooey bite he wondered why he didn't travel more. During that few months he'd been suspended he'd holed himself up at Grimmauld Place like a hermit. He could have just as easily enjoyed the anonymity of Marseilles or Rome. More than once he'd considered visiting Antiones at Delphi but felt he might be imposing.

"Harry Potter!"

He looked up from his pizza and found a bloke pointing straight at him, "You're Harry Potter!"

What could he do? Harry nodded awkwardly as he inwardly hoped the acknowledgement would make the bloke go on his way. Instead, several heads turned his way and all of them were asking silently to themselves who Harry Potter was.

"You are, as we say, a hero here," his guide Luciano mentioned softly. "I shall take care of this."

Harry watched as his guide took the bloke to the side and spoke quietly with him. Soon, the unknown Italian walked away disappointed but hazarded a wave to Harry as he reached the restaurant door. Harry waved back.

"Here you are 'Il Ragazzo' and 'Vincitore deMorte.'" explained the guide. "There is even a set of stories written for kids of the little English Boy who defeated death itself that was published last year."

"What?" Harry was disturbed that someone would write a book about him. Certainly he'd received offers for his story – Slughorn still passed along offers from interested publishing houses – but to actually have a children's story published about him? Harry didn't want to think about it.

"The papers said you defeated nine wizards in a duel some weeks back?" his guide asked.

Reluctantly Harry nodded, "Luciano, I was hoping to get away from being me for a little while. Maybe you could tell me more about where we are going?"

"Certainly." Luciano's eyes dropped and Harry realised his guide was awkwardly trying to hide his disappointment. All the same, Harry was in no mood to rehash the past month's raid. Luciano explained, "Most of us no longer live in Rome. Much like your country, many of us moved to the countryside once Rome was sacked. A good number moved to Constantinople. As our cities grew strong again during the Renaissance, many of us moved to Florence. In fact, that is where the sketches that you asked about first turned up."

"How did you find them?" Harry asked.

Luciano forgot his disappointment and now filled with pride, "It was actually my doing. My family was close with the Medicis and while we studied together one of my mates spoke regularly of his parents' collection of rare works of art from the Imperial Period. One of the works he spoke about incessantly was a sketch of Venus by a Pygmalion whom he'd made into the only known sculpture brought to life. He had me visit one holiday so I could see it...all he cared about was that she was scantily clad."

Harry's eyes went wide, "Your Ministry didn't tell me they knew what the sketches were of. Why didn't you write me?"

"I thought they did." Luciano pursed his lips, "I described the sketch to them. I thought you were here to look at it in detail. That's why I was provided as your guide...I had the most knowledge of the sketches and I was the only one able to get you access to the Medici home. The Medicis have not been on friendly terms with either Florence or Rome in nearly four centuries."

This new development caused Harry both frustration and excitement. He was frustrated that his suspicions about the statue in Greece had likely been correct. Even so, he felt inexplicably excited that he and Hermione had been on the right path and that he had confirmation that the necklace did make it to Rome. He hoped that maybe the sketch would help him figure out who might have taken the necklace and where it may be now.

"Could we go directly to Florence and see the sketches or do we need to wait for our appointment with the Ministry?" Harry asked.

"The Forum," Luciano corrected. "Here in Rome our leaders do business at the Forum." Harry's guide blushed realising he had needlessly and thoughtlessly corrected his guest, "I'm sorry. Let me go and see if we can cancel the appointment."

Harry finished his pizza while he waited. Now that it had cooled the cheese wasn't so gooey and it no longer stretched into thin strings as he took each bite...but it was still amazing. He now had no question what he was going to see when he visited the Medici home but his imagination got the better of him all the same. If he could just find some hint - any hint – that told him where the necklace had gone.

"As it turns out," Luciano's eyes twinkled as he returned, "they were going to cut our meeting short anyhow. Our people in Rome live freely amongst the Plebes and discretion is occasionally a forgotten virtue. Thankfully, the Plebes are a cynical bunch and many of our peoples' indiscretions can be easily passed off as illusions. Today they must explain how a chariot managed to fly."

Harry grinned as he remembered the flying Anglia and how much grief it had caused for the Weasleys. Shaking his head he returned to the moment. This was great news! Harry was ready to go. "So we are off to Florence?"

"Oh, no..." Luciano explained, "The Medicis came across the sketches while in Florence. They later moved with many of our kind from Florence in the fifties because of the influx of American tourists. You can no longer stroll the city streets of Florence without some fool in white socks and sandals stopping you to ask where Leonardo di Vinci lived."

"Where do they live now?" Harry asked.

"Leonardo di Vinci? He's long dead," answered his confused guide.

"The Medicis," Harry reminded.

"They lived to the northwest on the coast near France. A small little town named Bussana Vecchia," replied Luciano. "It is near San Remo if you know where that is."

Harry shook his head.

"Well, then get up and come along. I'll show you."

A few Euros were left at the table and they slipped over to a quiet corner of the restaurant. Luciano pulled out a finely lacquered wand and soon they were in a barren village. As they walked the empty streets, Luciano explained, "Bussana Vecchia has been a state mandated ghost town for just over a century. There was a terrible earthquake and since then the only residents are artists...and the more private minded of our people."

The town looked very strange. There were no doors or windows in their frames and the buildings were all empty shells on the ground floor. The streets were empty. The stairs had been removed from each of the flats that had been built above abandoned shops. If Harry didn't have a carefully trained eye, he'd never have noticed the occasional flat that would show life through a paneless window.

"I don't know how the artists get up and down from where they live. I'm not even sure if they are aware of our people living among them. Tourists are discouraged and the official line amongst the Plebes is that this is a ghost town. All the same, the village is at least a thousand years old."

As they reached the outskirts of town they came upon a large building that looked as if it would collapse any time. Even Harry blinked when he tapped his wand on the old door as Luciano instructed and the false facade was stripped away. Now before him was a stucco manor with a large door and and an impressive knocker. Not since Dumbledore had he seen such a well crafted illusion for a structure.

"Gringotts arranged the whole thing," Luciano explained with a knowing glance. "The Medici's were the richest family in all of Europe in the Sixteenth Century and this branch of the family retained a good portion of their wealth."

"Indeed," a large bloke with a heavy accent agreed as he opened the door. "My cousins went bankrupt due to their thirst for power."

"Your Grace," Luciano introduced, "May I introduce you to Mr. Harry Potter?"

"Your Grace?" the large bloke asked with a wide grin, "Luciano, you flatter me. Signor Potter, I am Lorenzo Medici. I am told you desire to view a few sketch in my family's collection."

"Yes sir."

"Then come in," invited the monstrosity of a man. The bloke was so large that Harry had to walk around him. Lorenzo's large velvety purple robes were meant to show off his wealth but instead they made him look even fatter than he really was. Once inside, the Medici showed them to a sitting room, "I am told that you once survived the killing curse. Before I show you the sketches would mind if I ask you a few questions over wine?"

And so they they sat and spoke for nearly an hour. Some of the questions were a bit uncomfortable, such as how he'd felt in the graveyard when the body of Voldemort was reincarnated, but Harry answered as truthfully as he could. He was just thankful the man was willing to meet with him. After the bottle was finished, Lorenzo finally stood up and said, "I imagine you'd like to take a look at those sketches now."

Lorenzo Medici took Harry and his former schoolmate on a tour of the Palazzo Medici. They began with the courtyard located in the centre where there was a nude statue of a bloke standing with his dog, "My family was sentimental. Much of the palazzo is identical to its sister in Florence. The one difference is the next chamber...we had a special place designed to hold our most prized artwork."

As they entered the chamber Harry was overwhelmed. Each of the works shared a certain uniqueness to them and he felt a history that even the artwork at Hogwarts could never do justice. While at Olympia he'd been shown a vast number of Greek statues and art, there was something about this artwork that was so lifelike...original portraits and scenes by Raphael and Michaelangelo and other famous Italian artists.

"The Renaissance was such a unique period," Lorenzo agreed. "You will not find a superior collection of Renaissance art anywhere in the world. The Louvre can have the Mona Lisa. Rome can keep their frescos. None of them will compare to these."

Luciano smiled when Harry shared a look with him, "I felt the same way when I walked through here for the first time. Many of these pieces have been _missing_ for centuries."

Harry was not normally too interested art but each of the works aroused so much emotion. He'd been forced into museums before but each of these paintings displayed images more powerful than any he'd ever seen. Even the portraits of Dumbledore in Hogwarts brought to life were no match. "How did your family come across these?"

"In most cases it was due to the difficulties of war," Lorenzo explained. "In some cases, such as the one there," Lorenzo pointed to an erotic painting of a woman in an intimate pose with a swan, "I was asked to take the painting because there was a threat that it would be destroyed. Our family has been known to protect all forms of art...even risque."

Luciano seemed to read Harry's mind, "That piece was by da Vinci. It is a re-enactment of the myth of Jupiter's seduction of Leda as a swan."

"So they really are..?"

"Oh yes," his guide confirmed. Luciano couldn't help get a dig on his schoolmate, "The Medicis have a soft spot for art that displays the more _amorous _side of the human condition."

Soon they found themselves in the study that held the sketch that Harry had come so far for. It wasn't difficult to find it. The sketch was prominently displayed above the mantle that dominated the room. Harry wondered why a black and white sketch would dominate one of the most important rooms of the Palazzo Medici. Lorenzo explained, "This was the first, very first, piece of art to be animated so that it could speak to its audience."

"Really?" Harry had not realised this.

"He used it as a test for the statue that the sketch portrays," Lorenzo continued. "It is the reason why the myth of Pygmalion and Venus lives to this day. The story of the sculptor who breathed life into his work and made it his lover has fascinated both Greeks and Romans alike for Centuries. The myth was only partly factual, of course."

Harry was speechless.

"Ask her yourself," Lorenzo invited. Apparently the Medici didn't think his guest believed him.

"I believe you. I just can't believe it can speak. You do not know how long I've been looking for this artwork and I had no idea that I would be able to ask it questions."

"You have questions of me?" the likeness of Aphrodite asked. "It has been some time since I've been asked anything more serious than whether I am able to disrobe." She seemed to glare at Lorenzo rather crossly when she said this. Harry cocked an eyebrow at his host who merely shrugged and gave an embarrassed smile.

But that wasn't why Harry was here, "I was actually here to ask you about the necklace."

The likeness of Aphrodite continued to stand in her portrait but she brought her hands down from her hair that she seemed to always be combing and she rested her chin as if she were thinking. Finally she asked, "What necklace?"

It seemed so strange to be speaking with a black and white drawing. When she spoke it was like watching a cartoon. Her lips moved in such an awkward way and her voice sounded as if it were coming from a wireless that wasn't quite in tune. Harry wondered how different Pygmalian's animation here of Aphrodite was from the animated portraits that were fashioned today.

"I asked, 'What necklace?'" Aphrodite repeated.

"I'm sorry, you're daughter Harmonia's necklace. I read that you - your sketch, that is - was created to help find the necklace."

"Hmmm...I seem to remember a necklace. It has been so long. No-one has asked me about anything of importance in so long. There was a man many centuries ago that would ask me questions about my husband and my children. He asked about all of my family and my home in the mountains. Let me think back for a moment."

Minutes passed before she answered, "I remember now. My maker was commissioned to sculpt a likeness of me to defend a necklace that my husband had fashioned. It was a very dangerous necklace. It drew on the power of Mans' greed. Like all truly evil things it tempted its owner with material gain...in this case beauty...only to curse her when Mans' petty desires overtook the love he had for her."

"Yes," Harry couldn't believe his fortune. He'd ignored Lorenzo and Luciano who were sharing a silent conversation. Both were wondering what they were now a party to. Neither had thought to ask why Harry had wanted to see the sketch. Lorenzo had assumed Harry had just wanted to see a piece of history. He'd never have thought that there was anything more to the sketch than a statue that had long since disappeared.

"Can you tell me anything about the statue?" Harry continued.

"I don't exactly know the location," the portrait quipped. "I don't even know where I am. I've been moved thrice as far as I can remember."

"One of my ancestors searched long and far for the statue and she did everything she could to provide him clues," Medici chimed in. "Unfortunately, the statue is long gone. Such a shame...it'd be a perfect addition to our collection."

"That's ok. I know where the statue is," Harry replied absent-mindedly. "I was just wondering..." he was trying to figure out how to ask this without causing any trouble "...it seems the necklace has been removed and now any time someone approaches your statue you come to life and kill them."

Again, the portrait stood quietly as if thinking to herself. It was surreal to watch such concentration on a black and white drawing. Aside from that, Harry had to admit that she was oddly appealing for a sketch.

"I do remember a few things that my maker mentioned. It was years and years ago. He said that my likeness would kill anyone that tried to take the necklace. In fact, he was sure there was only one way to destroy the necklace and he was sure I would kill anyone who did not help me try."

Harry was curious, "Do you remember what he said would happen to the statue if the necklace was destroyed?" Maybe it had already been done.

"No," Aphrodite shook her head.

Harry thought of another question, "Is there any way the necklace could be taken from her..from you?"

The portrait shrugged. That's when Harry noticed something he hadn't bothered to pay attention to before. Harry walked closer to get a better look, "Could you stand still a moment?"

For the first time Harry noticed that the necklace was not on her shoulders. Instead, there were markings like scars on her shoulders just like those on the statue he'd seen months before. It couldn't be that simple, could it?

"Why aren't you wearing the necklace now?" Harry asked.

Aphrodite felt what now looked more like bumps on her shoulders, "Oh." She lifted the draping that had covered her chest just over her bosom, "My maker had to carve these divots into my shoulders in order to place the necklace. When I am in my stone form you can only see the bumps but when I turn to flesh the necklace rests on my shoulders...wait a minute..."

"What?" Harry asked innocently.

"Why are you asking all of these questions about the necklace? Do you plan to help destroy it or are you just some fool thinking he'll win it for his bride?" the Portrait seemed very upset.

"Neither," Harry answered honestly. "I promise that I do not plan on taking the necklace for a girlfriend or a wife."

"To sell it?" the portrait asked suspiciously.

"No."

If Harry had seen those behind him he'd have realised that he was not the only one contemplating the necklace. Neither Luciano or Lorenzo knew what this obvious ancient object was but they could imagine the implications of finding a treasure from the time of Aphrodite herself. None of the items in the Medici collection were older than the Roman Empire. The fact that Harry knew the location of the statue...the talking statue...was enough to trigger their greed.

But Harry was focused only on the sketch before him, "Is there anything more you can tell me?"

Aphrodite looked appraisingly at Harry. Then she glanced at Lorenzo and Luciano behind him, "I can tell you nothing about the statue...but you may want to turn around."

Harry's wand was out before his head turned. Behind him both men had wands drawn and serious looks. Lorenzo and Luciano had already decided quietly amongst themselves that such a treasure as a necklace from the times of Ancient Greece were well worth attacking a visitor for. Sure, Harry'd be missed but Luciano could claim that he'd found what he'd been looking for at the Medici home and that he'd left directly on the next leg of his journey.

He didn't know why but as he saw the two flashes of red barrel toward him he thought of Antiones and his chambers. He didn't have time to block the spells. His back had been to the wizards and his wand was in no position to shield him. Instead he focused hard on Antiones and his home.

Lorenzo and Luciano shared a look of triumph as their stunners struck home. Harry's eyes had been filled with horror as he was struck by the red flashes.

Triumph quickly turned to confusion when instead of crumpling to the ground he disappeared with a shockingly loud "Crack!" and a blinding flash of light that forced them to cover their eyes.

"What happened?" Lorenzo asked Luciano once his ears stopped ringing.

The portrait had witnessed everything. She stared down at them lied, "Are you happy? You killed him. What kind of curse was that?"

"Just stunners!" they both insisted. They looked at each other desperately, "Just stunners, right?"

The portrait smiled to herself. Served the ruddy fools right. She didn't know their angle but to attack a man from behind was simply barbaric. She wondered silently why she was still thinking to herself in English. How did she even knew English at all? Ultimately she decided she didn't care. She sat back in her black and white chair and ignored the arguing Italians. It wasn't long before she had dozed off.

**A/N: So what do you think? I'm curious how many of you caught on to Eve's favourite author. If any of you are able to go, I hear Highgate Cemetery is beautiful. He was buried there soon after his death (May 2001). Such a shame that such a brilliant man died so young.**


	35. TP 35 Awakenings

**Chapter 35 – Awakenings**

**Submitted: Monday 22 October 2012 Last Submitted: Too Long Ago**

Harry had little luck rubbing the bleariness from his eyes. They were no use at all without his glasses. Hermione had taken to calling him 'the perfect storybook villain' because his refusal to fix the one obvious fatal flaw that any knowing opponent could expose.

The familiar clinking of knife and fork on plate told him someone was nearby eating a meal. By the sound of it, they were at least a few feet away and sitting above him at a table. He began feeling around on his hands and knees for his missing glasses.

"They're behind you about a foot or so away." The voice was familiar. There was a touch of humour in it and more than a little curiosity.

"Accio," Harry mumbled with wand in hand. Sometimes he forgot he was a wizard. Assuming the worst he followed the first spell with a quick "Oculus Reparo" under his breath. Placing his glasses on his nose, Harry addressed his host,"Have I been here long?"

"Aye," answered the familiar voice. "Would you care for a bite?"

Harry tried to stand but even the slightest effort upward caused his head to throb. It wasn't like he felt better when he sat still...with each beat of his heart he could feel the blood blast through his head. The pain reminded him of the headaches he'd get when Voldemort would suffer a tantrum.

"That fall couldn't have done you any good. Your head made an awful sound when it hit the floor. You appeared out of nowhere and collapsed."

"You couldn't've helped me to a bed or something?" Harry growled. "You just left me on the ground?"

"We tried." Harry could hear the smile on Antiones's lips, "You threatened to blast the lot of us to oblivion. Who is Lorenzo, by the way?"

"Let me just lie here for a few moments. If I can get this headache to go away I'll tell you everything."

He lied as still as he could for what seemed like forever until the headache did indeed go away. Antiones was quick to offer him dinner, "I had a plate prepared for you. Please forgive me but I had the last of the moussaka."

Despite his headaches and general queasiness Harry's appetite was still intact. When Antiones's servant placed the plate in front of him, he tucked right in. Harry tried telling the story while he ate but soon gave up. Instead, the former king patiently waited...watching as the young wizard wolfed down his lamb.

Finally sated, Harry began with his trip to Rome and worked his way to the conversation with the sketch of Aphrodite. When he got to the part where his guide and the Medici turned on him, Antiones was full of questions. "So they just attacked you out of nowhere?"

"I don't know. It's all fuzzy," admitted Harry. "I remember speaking to the sketch. I think she warned me. I turned to find their wands drawn on me. The rest is a blur."

"But how did you get out?" Antiones was fascinated.

Harry thought out loud, "I think I apparated out. It doesn't make sense, though. I didn't think you could apparate this far. The town we were at was nearly to France. We were warned at school not to apparate too far because it would make you sick and the headaches are terrible. Even when I travelled to Rome I was warned not to apparate back for that very reason."

"You spent a good amount of time on the floor," Antiones offered. "You weren't exactly pleasant either. For a good hour you rolled around on the ground threatening to blast me if I so much as made a noise."

"I don't remember any of that."

"At first you were absolutely still," Antiones frowned. "I thought you were dead. I had a servant sprinkle you with water and you began flailing around shouting."

"Sorry." Harry thought more, "They must have stunned me as I apparated out. It's a wonder I didn't get splinched."

"Splinched?"

Harry shivered, "You can lose an arm or leg...or worse. Either way, thank you."

"You're welcome.." Antiones tried to change the subject, "You don't know why they attacked you?"

Harry had little luck rubbing the bleariness from his eyes. They were no use at all without his glasses. Hermione had taken to calling him 'the perfect storybook villain' because his refusal to fix the one obvious fatal flaw that any knowing opponent could expose.

The familiar clinking of knife and fork on plate told him someone was nearby eating a meal. By the sound of it, they were at least a few feet away and sitting above him at a table. He began feeling around on his hands and knees for his missing glasses.

"They're behind you about a foot or so away." The voice was familiar. There was a touch of humour in it and more than a little curiosity.

"Accio," Harry mumbled with wand in hand. Sometimes he forgot he was a wizard. Assuming the worst he followed the first spell with a quick "Oculus Reparo" under his breath. Placing his glasses on his nose, Harry addressed his host,"Have I been here long?"

"Aye," answered the familiar voice. "Would you care for a bite?"

Harry tried to stand but even the slightest effort upward caused his head to throb. It wasn't like he felt better when he sat still...with each beat of his heart he could feel the blood blast through his head. The pain reminded him of the headaches he'd get when Voldemort would suffer a tantrum.

"That fall couldn't have done you any good. Your head made an awful sound when it hit the floor. You just appeared out of nowhere and collapsed."

"You couldn't've helped me to a bed or something?" Harry growled. "You just left me on the ground?"

"We tried." Harry could hear the smile on Antiones's lips, "You threatened to blast the lot of us. Who is Lorenzo, by the way?"

"Let me just lie here for a few moments. If I can get this headache to go away I'll tell you everything."

He lied as still as he could for what seemed like an hour and the headache did indeed go away. Antiones was quick to offer him dinner, "I had a plate prepared for you. Please forgive me but I had the last of the moussaka."

Harry quickly found that despite his headaches and general queasiness his appetite was still intact. When the plate arrived the scent overcame him and he tucked right in. Harry had planned on telling the story while he ate but instead the former king patiently waited...watching as the young wizard wolfed down his lamb.

Finally sated, Harry began with his trip to Rome and worked his way to the conversation with the sketch of Aphrodite. When he got to the part where his guide and the Medici turned on him, Antiones was full of questions, "So they just attacked you out of nowhere?"

"I don't know," admitted Harry. "I remember speaking to the sketch. She pointed to the others. When I turned around their wands were drawn on me and the rest is a blur."

"So you don't know why they attacked you?" the former king asked.

"I imagine it had to do with me knowing where the statue is. Lorenzo is a collector of rare art and artefacts. Maybe he thought he could force me to share its whereabouts."

"Do you really think the necklace is at Olympia?" Antiones was intrigued.

"Aye," Harry answered. "The sketch's neckline was identical. Would you like to apparate there with me tonight and find out for sure?"

Antiones chuckled, "You mean that thing where you appear out of nowhere? Considering the state you arrived in, I wouldn't dare. Besides, do you even know how to get there?"

"I've been there before. I should be able to just visualise it and..." Harry's face screwed up in concentration as he tried to remember the chamber. He knew what it looked like but he couldn't quite wrap his head around where it actually was. "I forgot," he finally admitted, "You did mention that the city was unplottable. "

"Why don't we wait until morning?" Antiones asked. "Besides, my wife will be in soon and she will want to hear about Hermione. She's with her friends at the market."

His wife Lydia popped in soon enough, "Harry, what do we owe the pleasure? You live a little far away to just pop in."

Antiones shared a look with Harry before answering, "Actually, that is exactly what he did."

Lydia blinked, "Did you happen to bring Hermione with you? I have been dying to see her since I heard the news!"

"The news?" Harry didn't understand.

"That she's pregnant."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe she didn't tell me," Harry complained as they searched for the turn-off that led to the chamber that held the statue. They quietly made the trip to Olympia early the next morning so they could avoid Pelleus. Technically Harry had full access to all but the vaults in his quest for the Necklace of Harmonia. He'd purchased the right to visit Olympia at his whim the year before when he donated his ten thousand Galleon winnings from the Pythian Games. All the same, the current king didn't care much for Harry and he might have manufactured an excuse to decline Harry entry had asked.<p>

"My wife should have been more discreet. Granted, she thought you knew..."

Harry stopped. They had come upon a carved entry and it felt familiar, "You sure you want to come with me?"

Antiones considered. He'd heard stories about the statue but had never actually seen it, "Will she try to hurt me?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't think so. Hermione said those that watched in the past weren't hurt."

"And you just plan on going in there and...? This sort of thing doesn't bother you at all, does it?"

"I can't think of any better way to get the necklace," Harry answered.

Antiones shivered, "Hermione was right. What was the word she used when you announced you wanted to compete with the Champions?"

"Mental?"

"Mental." Antiones answered, "I just complained to my wife last week that nothing interesting happens here and then you happen along...if I tell her I waited outside I'd never hear the end of it."

The Helene was secretly embarrassed that he tiptoed in...as if entering quietly would make some sort of difference. Antiones was well respected amongst his people as a brave and powerful man but he'd never actually faced death. During times of peace the King was little more than a figurehead who settled disputes and oversaw ceremonies. He'd told Harry and Hermione once during the ceremony how he wished he could have been there fighting alongside them because 'nothing like that ever happened in Delphi.' Now he understood just how foolish such a statement must have sounded. This was nowhere as dangerous as what they'd done and he was already on the cusp of turning tail and running.

He kept repeating to himself silently that he wasn't really in danger. It was like a dare his friends from school would have manufactured to prove bravery. Each step he took he reminded himself that the cool musty air that hit is face was no different than the air he'd left behind. No Boggarts would appear from just beyond Harry's illuminated wand. The only real fear he should expect would be the very real possibility that Harry would be killed – which made him wonder what was going through Harry's head at the moment. He'd have asked if the corridor hadn't opened up to a small chamber.

Antiones watched Harry flick his wand so that the bright light that had guided them gave way to the torches that hung from the walls.

The chamber itself was nothing special. The walls were plainly carved like those of any other storage chamber. Each torch was pointed so that they presented the beautiful alabaster sculpture as the centrepiece of the chamber.

The statue itself was unlike anything that had been carved by a Helene. The milky white stone was the perfect medium...it absorbed the light and then reflected it from deep within so that it seemed even more mysterious. It, she, shimmered in such a way that you felt she might be alive even at this moment – fair skin and all.

Her arms were held high as she was caught in the act of seductively combing her long hair She dared her audience to watch. The thin gown left little to the imagination and even in stone form Antiones couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt as he admired her beautiful body. Her coy smile assured him that it was perfectly all right to look. Afraid he'd be tempted to kiss her himself if he continued to stare, he quickly averted his eyes to the floor.

The room itself was filthy. Bones and garments were left in random piles throughout the chamber. The floors hadn't been swept in generations and the dust had accumulated for so long that one would have mistaken that they were fashioned from earth rather than stone. Strangely, though, Aphrodite didn't have a speck of dust on her.

Antiones glanced toward his mate, "What now?" Harry was already approaching the statue,

Harry didn't bother to answer. Instead he gestured for Antiones to stay where he was. Antiones did as instructed and watched as Harry slowly manoeuvred around the piles of bones to get closer. When Harry was no more than a few feet away he stopped to read the words carved in the base. Antiones craned his neck so he too could read.

The first carving was utter nonsense to the Helene,_"Aphrodite Ultimum Magna Sacrificium: In Umeris illa fert Fillae Onus et Maledictionem." _They must have been carved in a foreign language. He guessed at the words _ultimate_ and _sacrifice_.

The second phrase was carved in a style of Hellenic script common during the height of the Roman Empire that he was familiar with. Loosely translated it read_,"My lips a great secret hold."_

The Helene watched as the young wizard began to roll his shoulders forward then backwards as if he was trying to get up the nerve to make the next move.

Then he did it. Harry stepped up onto the base of the statue and took the stone cheeks of Aphrodite firmly into his hands before kissing her soundly on the lips.

Milky white stone miraculously transformed into soft fair skin. There was no flash or bright light. Antiones swore he hadn't blinked. What had undeniably been a lifeless stone statue was now a rather lovely young woman without any indication that she'd ever been anything but.

More important, the young lady did not seem upset with Harry's forward gesture. In fact, Antiones would have described her as enthusiastic. Her dark hair was no longer held up by hands of stone – it had long since fallen to her shoulders. Her hands were always moving. It was as if this were Harry was her lost lover and she'd been waiting for him for decades or even centuries.

The gown had been sheer even when fashioned of stone but now it draped over her fine figure in such away as to leave little to the imagination. Antiones found himself wishing that Harry would move away so that he could steal just once glance. Quickly he reminded himself that he was happily married.

Then Antiones sucked in a breath. Something metallic glimmered in her hand as she moved it to the small of Harry's back. Admiration gave way to fear and he rushed to aid his friend.

* * *

><p>Harry stared at the plaque at the base of the statue. He didn't understand a word of it.<p>

Hermione had told him once before that it translated into something about the statue's lips holding a secret. According to both Hermione and the Curator, no-one had kissed the statue before and lived. Still, he had to believe that the clue wouldn't have been provided if the statue was meant to kill all who came in contact with it. Knowing what he knew now he had to think that all of those blokes who'd kissed her before had done so with the wrong intent and she'd killed them for wasting her time.

Then again, she might have killed them because they had tried to steal the necklace. He couldn't have been the only person that had searched for the necklace and found it, could he? What would happen to him if he tried to take it?

He grew tired of thinking. If anything, he was just happy he hadn't brought Hermione along. She'd have killed him herself if he told her what he'd planned to do. He cocked his head to the left a little as he gathered up his courage. He began to roll his shoulders forward to loosen the muscles. It was not lost on him that this could be the very last time that he kissed a woman. That is...if she was a woman.

Silently he counted off to himself, "...1...2...3"

Then he did it. He stepped up to the statue of Aphrodite and placed her cheeks in his hands. "This is going to look utterly stupid if nothing happens," he thought to himself.

He kissed her flat on the lips. He didn't go halfway, either.

But her lips weren't stone. They were warm to the touch.

He didn't bother to open his eyes. He was the type of guy who always closed his eyes when he kissed a girl. It felt creepy otherwise. Her hair fell a little bit over his nose. She must have let it go. She pulled him into her and held him tightly.

But they couldn't kiss forever. After a few moments he made that universal gesture that he was about to ease back and she took the hint. As they slowly pulled away, he took a good hard look at her.

His instincts had been dead on. There in the sheerest of gowns was an absolute vision of a woman. And there on her shoulders was the necklace.

"You're not here to bed me, are you?" the young witch asked hopefully, "because if so I might as well kill you now."

Harry shook his head.

"Are you here to help me destroy the necklace?"

Reluctantly, he shook his head again. It was then that Harry noticed the dagger. He didn't quite know what to say but he realised that if he didn't think of something quick then there wouldn't be an opportunity.

She shook her head disappointedly, "That is unfortunate. I like your eyes. They are honest and full of courage. What would possess you to try to take this necklace from me? Could you find no better way to impress your mistress?"

"I don't have a mistress," Harry answered sheepishly. "Well, I mean, I have a girlfriend but we just began dating. Either way, the necklace isn't for her."

"Then who in Hades is the necklace for?" She placed her hands on her hips as much to make a point as she did out of frustration. Harry bit his lip as he glanced up and down. The torchlight passed right through her gown and he found himself fighting to keep his eyes above her chin.

Aphrodite seemed not to mind. This had often been a ploy of hers to keep the upper hand. "I asked, who is the necklace for, then?"

Harry stammered, "It's for a mate of mine. Her name is Lavender. She's a had a rough time of it since the war. My mate Hermione and I have searched everywhere we can think of for anything that would make her feel like herself again. Your necklace has been the only solution that's shown any promise."

This seemed to do little to impress the woman, "You realize what this necklace has done, don't you? The mischief it has caused? If she wears it she will likely suffer like my daughter did."

"If you saw what the war did to my mate," Harry answered sadly, "you'd realise that there is little worse that could happen to her. She has suffered terribly already."

Aphrodite's demeanour softened when she recognised the genuine sadness on his face. She too had fought many a war during her lifetime. She believed deep in her heart that many of the injured suffered much more than the dead. Many of her friends had walked away with injuries that plagued them for years after the battles had ended. She extended a hand, "Show me."

Somehow he knew what she meant. He placed her hand to his cheek and closed his eyes. He could feel her presence within his mind. It was as if the two of them were sitting in a room and he was showing her videos of what he experienced through his life – only in this case he was showing those memories that he knew answered her question.

The first vision was outside the Castle during the Battle of Hogwarts as Harry imagined it. He cringed as he watched Lavender fall from the wall to the ground, ravished and broken. Harry and Aphrodite followed Firenze as he carried Lavender, limp and whimpering, into the forest. He stole a glance at Aphrodite when Firenze sliced the long wound along the unicorn's hind section and mixed the unicorn's blood with his own. Aphrodite jumped when Lavender took the sip of the concoction and belted out a terrible scream. It was almost too much too watch the young beautiful girl transform into something hideous right before them. Harry felt his stomach turn.

Her skin, even after the fall had been nearly flawless. If anything, her skin was even lighter and her cheeks were rosier than before. This made the transformation even more gruesome. Immediately the Centaur's blood began to fight the wolf's toxic bite...and the skin cells that had already been overtaken by the wolf's curse. Her skin grew grey and cracked. Spider veins appeared all over where the Centaur Blood and her own cursed blood began do battle.

And the Centaur's Blood wasn't the worst of it. The unicorn's blood healed each of her injuries...even if imperfectly. Unicorn's blood was not made for bone breaks. It was an imperfect cure meant for only the most severe injuries. It worked quickly to heal her damaged lungs and liver and spleen but the side effects were gruesome. The blood could not reset the shattered bones in her cheek and orbital bone or in her ribs. One of her eyes began to swell up and bulge from where the orbital bone began to rapidly regrow and heal. The shattered bone fragments worried little if they healed properly...they simply combined with one another where they met.

Soon Lavender was nothing like the witch Harry had grown up knowing. A disgusted Aphrodite swept the memory away with a gesture.

Soon a medley of memories replaced it: The first time Lavender had thrown down the curtain at St. Mungo's to show him how truly disfigured she was. The evening the Centaurs winced when she present herself to them. The night he found her sobbing as she read Seamus's first letter exclaiming how he loved her for her beauty. It was then that Aphrodite abruptly pulled her hand away from his cheek.

She smiled weakly, "You are a good and loyal friend, Harry Potter. You do understand that the necklace will not solve her problems, though, don't you? At best, it is only a short term solution."

"Yes," Harry agreed, "But at the moment I have no solution. Doesn't she deserve at least an opportunity?"

"Harry," Aphrodite caressed his cheek, "If we all got what we deserved then we'd all be unhappy. In the end we all disappoint, hurt others needlessly, lie...your loyalty for her is due to what she did for you. Before that tremendous act of courage, she was a petty and vain fool.

"But..."

"But what, Harry? I saw everything. The way she treated your friend Hermione. Her arrogance. Her vanity. She's become a better person because of what she has become." Aphrodite picked his chin up, "If anything, I'm more inclined to help her because of you. If there were any way to help you I would. Unfortunately, I was created to destroy the necklace and to defend it until it is destroyed. If you can't help me destroy it then I will be forced to kill you. It was an oath I made when I accepted this duty."

She was flesh and blood but her glare reminded him of the stone she had come from. She obviously felt for his predicament but she could do nothing for him. Instinctively, Harry reached for his wand. It was not there.

"Don't even bother," Aphrodite frowned and gestured around them. "All you see before you is a vision. We are actually still kissing this very moment. My dagger is pointed at the small of your back and if you do one wrong thing then I shall bury it into your spine until your heart can no longer beat and your lungs can longer breathe. Why do you think your friend has not interrupted us all this time?"

For the first time since they kissed, Harry took a good look around the chamber. It wasn't anything like the musty room he'd entered moments before. The bones, the torches, and his mate were nowhere to be found. They weren't really even in the chamber. They could have been inside or outside for all he knew. There were striking similarities to the place he'd met Dumbledore when he'd been struck down by Voldemort the morning of the Battle of Hogwarts.

He obviously had no choice. He knew what he must do, "How would we destroy it?"

"The Oracle said there was only one way to successfully destroy the necklace." She sighed, "You must wish it so."

"What?"

"When Hephaestus died he gloated over what he'd done. Hephaestus created the necklace so that a man's first wish came true when he shared the first kiss of true love with a woman who wore it. Despite his physical shortcomings, Hephaestus had been a keen observer of the heart of man and woman. He rightfully predicted that no matter how smitten a man might be by his mistress that he would still harbour his own selfish desires. He believed that there was not a man alive that loved anyone more than himself."

"But?" Harry asked. "There's always a 'but,' right?"

"Yes. I asked the Oracle how to destroy the necklace. Her answer was word for word, 'Given time, a man will come who only thinks of others. Make him fall in love and he will do as you ask.'"

"Wait." Harry was thoughtful, "I can understand the wish part. That part seems simple. What I don't understand is how I'm supposed to fall in love with you."

Aphrodite batted her eyes, "You haven't fallen for me already?"

Harry's eyed her stoically...as if the question wasn't even worthy an answer.

"How do you believe I became known as the Goddess of Love? I have...had...a gift. I could make any man love me by reading his thoughts, like I did moments ago, and becoming that which he wanted most. That is why each piece of art depicts me so differently. I am a shape-shifter. Each man sees what he wants to see. When alive, I could bed any man just by becoming what he wanted me to be."

"Then let's do it," Harry offered.

She looked at him carefully. She shifted weight as she thought to herself. This might be the first real opportunity in generations of actually succeeding.

"What?" asked an exasperated Harry. "You made it painstakingly clear that I'm not leaving without doing as you ask. It seems easy enough a task. Are you having second thoughts?"

"No, no, no..." the Goddess answered. Her expression was thoughtful, "What do you wish for right now? More than anything?"

"To get this over with..."

"If you don't make the correct wish then you _**will**_ die. I've sworn to kill all who fail. I will know. As long as I am touching you I can see your thoughts."

Harry tried to casually adjust his glasses. He wasn't wearing any, "And?"

"This requires focus, Harry. I don't want to have to kill you. If you accidentally wish that you could be with me or wish that you could have that young girl Ginny or even wish that your parents would come back then I must kill you."

"But how could you kill me if I wish to spend eternity with Ginny? It seems a bit contradictory. If you kill me then wouldn't that in itself separate us for eternity."

Aphrodite cocked an eyebrow, "Don't make me show you. Wishes have an odd way of creating some rather awful circumstances...however unintended."

"Like?"

She brought the room into focus and pointed to a pile of bones in a corner, "That fool wished he could be with his object of fancy forever. I killed him on the spot. Somehow his poor unsuspecting fancy was drawn here where I was forced to kill her as well. They now lie together as one pile of bones in a mess of rubbish."

Harry felt the gravity behind what she was saying. The wrong wish could turn out bad not just for him but whomever he included. "What do you want me to do?"

"Think, Harry. Think hard on what you might want most. Do this again and again. Each time remind yourself why it is so important that you must push that desire out of mind and instead wish for what I ask."

She let Harry meditate on this for a while. Though minutes passed she refused to grow impatient. She'd waited for centuries for the proper person to carry out this task. She'd held blindly to Pygmalion's assertion that if he'd make her immortal through stone that she would eventually prove the Oracle's words true. She sacrificed so much to take on this form and she was so very tired of waiting. If Harry could destroy this necklace then she could finally sleep in peace.

"I'm ready."

"You know what...?"

Harry interrupted her, "I've got it. I know exactly what to do. Don't distract me. Just kiss me. Do what you need to do."

This time she took him in her arms. They weren't the arms of a confident lover. These were still a young man's arms...almost a boys. It made her think of her youth and the excitement of exploring love for the first time. Harry made her tingle as she kissed him which surprised her. He was no physical specimen – that was true. All the same, his determination and his unwavering courage were like warm rays of sunshine that warmed her cold dungeon of a body. While he clearly wanted to live, he was not afraid to die. There was a purpose to what he was doing and to him it was as important as whatever consequences he might face in the next few moments.

At first he felt nothing more than what a man would feel when kissing a beautiful half-dressed woman. He did not love her - he was simply fulfilling a request. His mind began to wander to Ginny and what it would be like to feel her lips on his again.

Aphrodite wasn't worried one bit. She searched deep into his mind. She was looking for what he desired most. Most men weren't honest with themselves. It was the sight of a woman and even more-so her smell that a man fell in love with. Women were much more complicated. Women fell in love with what they felt – men fell in love with what they saw.

She pulled together the imagery she needed. He loved Ginny but there had been certain aspects to his other girlfriends that he'd never admit he missed. Once she had the imagery she needed she stopped taking in his thoughts. She began to project her own.

The illusion was perfect. He was no longer kissing Aphrodite. He _**was**_ kissing Ginny. Her soft red hair with its faint scent of Jasmine was right there for him to bury his head into at any time. Her imperfectly freckled arms wrapped around him and her perfect pink lips pressed on his with that same desperate hunger that he remembered so well.

But this wasn't Ginny. Aphrodite could see even his innermost deepest desires that he'd done so well to drive from his conscious mind. He'd often fallen asleep thinking of another Ginny. It was the Polyjuiced copy of Ginny he'd met months before that he secretly desired most. It took him months to get that twisted combination of Ginny and Eliza out of his head. The sight of Eliza dancing in the buff would drive him mad...the idea of Ginny and Eliza meshed into one? Phew...

Aphrodite grasped onto this fantasy. When she pushed him up against an imaginary wall and buried herself into him he was overcome by the headiness of cherry blossoms and Jasmine mingled together. She still looked like Ginny and spoke like Ginny but her mannerisms were much more like Eliza. Little by little she became Eliza in thought and mind. It wasn't difficult, Eliza exhibited a raw sexuality that bordered on insanity which came naturally to Aphrodite - she was enjoying this well more than she should.

It was the cherry blossoms that did it. Harry pulled her in even closer. She quickly understood why witches didn't want him to stop. He might not have the broadest shoulders or the thickest arms but he had a fire deep within that when stoked could burn all around him. She wondered whether she could have resisted whatever he asked of her had she been mortal.

Arrgh! She'd lost focus.

It was like a blinding spark in a dark room. For him emotions were tenfold – all of those years stuck in that broom closet with no love and no affection - he fell for the illusion and his heart burned like a fire through a drought ridden forest. It was too much even for her.

And then came the wish.

She nearly buried the dagger deep into his back. As it was, she pressed just hard enough that he gasped as it tore through his tunic. She hissed in his ear, "Why couldn't you just do as you were asked."

His eyes grew wide as the pain shot up his spine and then back down to every extremity of his body. The blade had already drawn blood as it scraped a rib. His response was just above a whisper, "I did. I wished that the necklace be destroyed _**just after**_ the very next wish was made. I thought that Lavender might still be able to use the necklace."

Aphrodite was not impressed. All the same, she pulled the dagger away as she thought more on his wish. What she'd seen on first inspection was Lavender happily wearing the necklace as she kissed her true love. This time she looked more closely. She noticed that as Lavender kissed Seamus the necklace visibly dimmed.

The Goddess released him and he fell to a knee. His tunic was a bloody mess in the back. She pointed her dagger menacingly at him, "This isn't the sort of thing you search for loopholes for! What were you thinking?"

Harry did a physical inventory. His whole body seared with pain but thankfully the wound seemed superficial. He didn't think she'd injured any organs. "It wasn't something I did intentionally. It just sort of happened."

"I told you that I must kill you unless the necklace is destroyed!" she answered with a shrill. "I must remain here until the necklace is gone! How am I to know for sure that the necklace is destroyed unless I can see it myself?"

The young wizard rested on a knee. His breathing was becoming more and more laboured, "I promise that once it loses its power I will return it to you. I promise upon my magic. But if you must kill me then get it over with..."

Although he was without his wand, the air surrounding the two of them grew brilliant with static. Small brilliant wisps surrounded them and fell like stars all around. They both felt the queer sensation of the binding of the oath. Harry finished his sentence, "...all I ask is that you give the necklace to Antiones and allow him to deliver it to my mate."

Silence filled the room. Aphrodite still held her dagger but she no longer pointed it directly at him. She was replaying the memory of his wish over and over again in her head as she poured over every detail. What he said was true. Technically he wished the necklace destroyed. In this case the necklace would be useless after the next wish was made. At least she could be thankful that only one more wish would be carried out. Who knew? Not all wishes were horrible. Maybe some good would come of it? It was unlikely but it happened.

"All right," Aphrodite finally acquiesced. "I will allow you to take the necklace.

It took a moment to sink in. The pardon came as a surprise, "You're serious?"

"Yes, but..." She eyed him carefully, "When the time comes you must grant me a wish of my own."

* * *

><p>Antiones watched helplessly as Aphrodite dug the dagger into Harry's back. She didn't bury it as deep as Antiones had feared, but blood quickly drenched Harry's tunic as he blindly continued to kiss the living incarnation of the statue. Antiones had tried to separate them but was thrown to the ground by some invisible force.<p>

What could he do?

Thankfully he didn't have to wonder for long. Aphrodite released his friend who immediately collapsed to his knees and let out a horrible gasp of pain. Aphrodite was stern, "At no time is this necklace to be worn by anyone but the one intended. If any other witch so much as places it on her shoulders then I shall come for you. Is that clear?"

Aphrodite didn't wait for Harry to answer. She took the necklace from her shoulders and placed it in his hand, "Do not disappoint me Harry. I expect to see you soon."

She acknowledged Antiones for the first time, "Your friend Harry needs your help. Take him to a healer. Have him administer hemlock to the wound. It will counteract the poison from my dagger. He hasn't more than an hour."

"But hemlock will..."

Aphrodite interrupted, "...Will save him. Do it now."

Antiones couldn't argue with her. She'd already returned to stone.

**A/N: Let me know what you think!**


	36. TP 36 Masks of All Sorts

**Chapter 36 – Masks of All Sorts**

**Submitted: Friday 2 November 2012 Last Submission: Mid-October**

**A/N: I've finally been able to get a chapter ahead again. I don't like posting the chapter just as I've written it. It's much too easy to post chapters on impulse without thinking of the long term ramifications of where the story is going. Please review...I look forward to hearing what you think.**

Hermione couldn't help herself. She turned the necklace over in her hand time and again. The gold glimmered in the candlelight and the emeralds gleamed, "I wish I could have been there." Harry caught the regret when cast a glance at her belly which was just beginning to show. He wondered if he'd have noticed if he didn't already know. Hermione looked him up and down, "It wasn't dangerous, was it?"

"Nothing worse than we've seen before." If she wasn't going to share her secret then he wasn't going to feel bad for hiding a few details of his own.

The truth was that his back was healing slowly. He'd remained in Greece for an extra week so that he could rid himself of his limp. While the wound itself had been superficial, the knife's venom had reached his spine before Antiones was able to get him to a healer. The poison nearly killed him. He was feverish for three days and couldn't walk for four.

"Now that I see it in person..." Hermione admitted, "...I don't care much for it. It looks like something a Slytherin might wear."

Harry nodded in agreement, "At least they aren't snakes. She shouldn't be bothered too much with dragons."

"I wouldn't count on it." Hermione, having been a flatmate of Lavender's, was not as sure. Lavender had never been fond of reptiles of any kind and was famous for it. Their second year, Lavender would rarely visit downstairs except for classes or meals – not because she was afraid of the 'Heir of Slytherin.' The thought of a nasty slimy snake patrolling the corridors gave her chills.

Hermione turned the necklace over yet again. It would have been worth thousands regardless of its origins. Pure gold, it was fashioned into two serpents who's mouths provided a clasp. Emeralds were used for the eyes and diamonds were set into the wings.

"Serpents mean different things to the Greeks," Harry reminded her. "Besides, if it means Lavender can walk out in public then she'll get used to it quickly."

"When are you taking it to her?"

"I'm not," Harry answered. "You are."

While she didn't object, Hermione's look of surprise beckoned him to explain, "You did all of the research. This has been your adventure from the beginning. All I did was take the trip down to Rome and Greece to pick it up. Besides," Harry couldn't help but grin when he said this, "If I know Lavender, she will throw off her robes just to see how she looks. You wouldn't have me suffer through that, would you?"

Hermione gaped at him, "And you'd have me suffer through it? Do you know how many nights I had to suffer through her 'I've got a date and I'm going to look fabulous' dance? She had no shame..."

Harry snorted tea through his nose he laughed so hard.

Hermione loved moments like these. They'd been through so much over the years. It was successes like these that made the hardships worth it. And it wasn't like they'd had many hardships of late. She wondered what he'd spend his time on now that the necklace was found. Maybe that witch he'd been quietly seeing?

It didn't take much to get Hermione's attention. Harry did just that when he winced as he adjusted in his chair. Now that she thought about it, he'd walked a little odd since he'd been back. She wondered what he was hiding.

She wouldn't push for now. If Hermione was to visit Lavender then she had loads to do, "Harry, do you mind if I borrow your owl?"

* * *

><p>"I am so happy you were added to the Floo network," Hermione said as she dusted herself off.<p>

"So am I," Lavender admitted. "I doubt Harry will use it. Any excuse to walk the Forest..." Lavender looked Hermione up and down, "So, what brings you here tonight? And how's the baby?"

Hermione smiled, "The baby's fine. It's me that needs help."

"Oh. Really? What can I do for you?" Lavender prompted Hermione to have a seat at the table.

"No..." Hermione laughed as she sat, "I didn't mean I needed help from you. I've just been sick a lot. It's getting more and more difficult to hide it from the boys."

"So you came here to hide?" Lavender's grin, like everything else, was lopsided.

"Not exactly." Hermione was trying to hide her excitement but it came bubbling out, "I wanted to show you my new necklace."

As the necklace came out, Lavender could only stare, "Did Ron buy that for you? It must have set him back quite a sum."

"Ohhh nooo...this is for you."

Lavender frowned, "But it would be wasted on me. Who would see it?"

"Everyone! Try it on."

Lavender eyed the necklace warily. She'd never been a big fan of reptiles of any kind. Even dragons gave her that scaley heebee jeebee feel. "I don't know..."

"Just _**try**_ it on!" Hermione begged.

Reluctantly Lavender picked up the necklace. It felt familiar. Had she seen it in a dream? She changed the subject, "How is Harry?"

"He won't say." Hermione remembered his awkward walk and his wincing at odd times that afternoon, "You haven't had any visions of him lately?"

"Not for a few weeks. What I do see of him is foggy and I can't make anything out."

"Hmmm..." Hermione thought on this. Lavender had said before that she had a difficult time seeing her own future. She wondered if that had something to do with it. "He's good. Now try on the necklace or I'm going to go home and give it to Padma."

That did it. The young crone pulled the necklace out of the box and lifted it over her head. It wouldn't fit without unclasping it. She worked the mouths of the two dragons until they came loose. Hermione, seeing it may be difficult for her mate, got up and helped her secure the clasp behind her neck.

"How does it look?" Lavender asked. "Like lipstick on a pig?"

Hermione turned her mate around. She looked up and down. "You look...beautiful."

"Ha Ha!"

"No. Look!" Lavender didn't keep mirrors around the cottage but her mate had brought one with her. She opened up her bag and pulled a small mirror out...along with two boxes from upmarket boutiques which she placed on the table. She pushed the mirror in Lavender's face but the crone initially shied away.

It didn't take more than a moment for Lavender to warm up to looking glass, though. First she hazarded to open one eye. It took no more than a glance to see what her mate had been going on about. Instead of the grey skinned hag with bloodshot eyes and lopsided hump, the looking glass beheld a young witch from years past. It was her! The old her! Gorgeous her!

Her robes were already drooping off her shoulders. She wriggled a bit to finish the job and soon Hermione averting her eyes. Lavender danced around the shack unclothed and uninhibited, "Look at me, Hermione! I'm gorgeous! Look at me!"

It wasn't quite dark yet. Hermione decided she'd seen enough of her mate...more than enough really, "I have something else for you."

Lavender eyed the boxes with a lot less suspicion than she had the necklace. She pulled the bow off the first box and tore it open much like a small child would. Inside was a tiny black dress and a pair of knickers. Hermione was quick to explain, "I'd written your measurements down for your birthday our final year at school together. I hope it fits."

"It's perfect!" Lavender cooed after she slipped it over her shoulders. "What's that?"

"This box here?" Hermione giggled. "Take a look for yourself!"

The bow and the top of the box found the floor quite easily. Both witches squealed when the contents were revealed. Hermione had seen them in the shop and she couldn't help herself. The most gorgeous pair of black pumps stared back at them. Lavender took no time to try them on.

"You didn't have to do all of this!" Lavender insisted. Hermione would have argued but held her tongue. It had all been more than worth it. The young blonde was as giddy as any time since the War, "I feel overdressed now. I feel like we should be going out."

"We are going to," Hermione giggled. "First we are off to meet Harry for dinner at a very nice restaurant. He wants to be the first to see you. Then we've arranged for a little shopping!"

Again the witches shared a squeal. Hermione wasn't much of a shopper herself but this would be a happy exception.

"How? Why?"

"I'll explain at dinner. Harry can fill in any blanks." Hermione turned serious, "But before we go I need to explain a few very important rules about the necklace. You must promise me to follow them to the letter or there will be disastrous consequences."

* * *

><p>"So," Seamus asked as he ran his fingers through her hair, "No snogging? At all?"<p>

"Never."

"And you can't take off the necklace?"

"Never."

Lavender had finally shared her deepest darkest secret with the bloke she had fallen in love with. She couldn't help herself. He'd asked so often why they couldn't see each other without a new moon that after a while her vague answers made him believe that there might be another wizard.

"I don't bloody care what you look like," the Irishman insisted.

"_I_ don't like the way I look under all of this. If you saw me as I really am then I'd never be able to look at you again. I'd rather think that the last vision you had of me was like this. This is who I always want to be."

"You're mental," Seamus kissed her on the forehead.

"How so? No matter how much power this necklace has it can't make a baby." She frowned, "More than anything in the world I wanted to finish school and have a beautiful little girl with a successful young wizard. Eventually you will want a child as well and you will leave me for someone that can give you one."

"You truly are mental." Seamus growled. "All I want is you. I've fancied you for...ever.

Lavender sniffed. Seamus wasn't exactly a poet. Those were likely the most romantic words she'd ever get out of him.

"Listen, I never wanted no kids anyway," he lied. He felt awful for her. When she hadn't been going on about boys at Hogwarts, she'd always gone on about how she wanted a family of her own, 'With a baby girl for me and, if I must, a little boy for my husband.'

He changed the subject, "So we don't have to wait anymore to see each other? You're sure?"

"Aye, but remember that I still can't stay overnight. And it's better that I come to visit you."

"Why," Seamus asked with more than a little sulk to his voice.

"I told you. I have my reasons. For now, I'm staying at Harry's evenings. I have a healthy business as a fortune teller and I don't think my clients need to see the _new_ me. I get the impression they believe that you have to be a crone to know the future."

Seamus was still sulking, "I'll have to wait around until you decide to pop in?"

"I'll invite you over from time to time. Let me find my own place first. I don't want to abuse Harry's hospitality."

Seamus would have continued to protest but Lavender decided she'd had enough talk. She took the matter in hand and gave him something else to think about.

* * *

><p>Harry couldn't quite place a finger on it. There was definitely something wrong with Eve. She'd been quiet most of the evening. While she'd been friendly with all of the Weasleys, she seemed to keep her distance from Harry. As they reached the row of stones that announced the Weasley property line, he finally gathered the courage to confront her.<p>

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

She didn't answer immediately. Instead she searched his face for answers. The moonlight was all she had and forced her to furl her eyebrows as she squinted.

"Is it because I didn't write while I was gone? I know I promised but...I was laid up for a few days."

"I worried a little," she admitted. "I had a feeling you'd gotten hurt. You have a difficult time sitting, don't you?"

"I tweaked my back."

She nodded knowingly. If the stories she'd heard were true then he'd have had to do much more than tweak his back to look like that when he sat down. She wasn't the only one that noticed. She'd recognised more than a few worried glances shared that evening amongst the Weasleys. Even little Victoire had made a point to take it easy on Harry after her first overzealous leap into his lap had caused a muted yelp.

Harry took a good look at her, "This isn't about me getting hurt, though. What happened tonight?"

"I had a chat with Fleur," the young witch admitted weakly. "She went on and on about her sister. She couldn't stop talking about how terrific _**you**_ were either. Is it true you promised to go out with her sister once she returns from Beauxbatons?"

"Gabrielle?"

Eve nodded.

Harry was at a loss for words. While he hadn't entirely forgotten about Gabrielle or his promise, he imagined that she'd have found a boy closer to her age by now. It still made him uncomfortable that she was that much younger than him...whether she was now of age or not. The fact that Fleur had brought this up to his current girlfriend was beyond acceptable no matter the circumstances. He couldn't even fathom why she'd do such a thing. He'd grown used to the Veela's hints about her sister and her constant questions about his love life but this was something he needed to end quickly.

"I'm very sorry. I don't have to go through with it. I can talk to her." Harry tried to brush his girlfiend's hair out of her eyes but she shook her head away.

"No." Eve looked at him sternly, "If you made a promise then you need to honour it. Fleur told me how that promise got her sister through her final year of school. She said that her poor sister fancies you more than anything in this world."

Harry was now beside himself, "Why would she possibly mention that to you?"

"She wanted me to know how honourable you were. She wanted me to know how terrific my boyfriend was." Eve seemed to be trying to smile as she blinked away tears.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly why she did it," Harry grumbled sarcastically. Fleur was going to regret this, "So, what is the problem, then?"

"I just know," Eva sniffed, "you are going to go out with her one time and that's going to be it for us. How can I compete with a Veela? A _**French**_ Veela at that..."

"Why do you say that?" Again, Harry tried to stroke her hair but again she pulled away.

"Have you seen Fleur?" Her voice cracked as a tear slipped down her cheek, "She's all beautiful and everything. You've seen how the blokes stare at her. If Gab...if she's half as pretty as her sister then I don't stand a chance. I mean, look at me..."

Harry was tempted to say that 'looks aren't everything' but quickly caught himself. To him, Eve was just as pretty as Gabrielle but how could he make her believe it? Either way, he was well aware he was treading on dangerous ground.

"We hardly ever do anything anyway. We might as well be mates," she complained. He knew what she meant. While they both enjoyed dating, it would be difficult for Harry to remember a time when they'd lost control snogging. When he'd been with Eliza they would lose track of entire afternoons...

"Eve," Harry protested, "Will you slow things down? I haven't even seen Gabrielle since last year. If you keep this up you'll have me married off within the month."

"It's just..." Eva glanced down pensively.

"...you're worried," Harry finished for her.

Eve nodded meekly. Harry was angry with Fleur. Intentional or not, she'd stripped away Eva's confidence. Strangely, Harry now felt oddly protective of her and he wanted nothing more to fix her broken heart, "How would you like to come back to my place tonight?"

This was the first time Harry had invited her over for an evening. Her spirits immediately rose as she nodded excitedly.

* * *

><p>Kreacher eyed his master's guest carefully as he took her cloak. After Eliza's antics he was much more careful with Harry's guests. Kreacher'd allowed himself to fancy Eliza and when Hermione pointed out what she'd been doing to his master, he didn't take it well. Secretly Kreacher had slipped down into the kitchen and beat himself with a pan until he grew woozy. He knew if either his master or mistress (as he now thought of Hermione) found out they'd be very upset. Even so, he couldn't allow himself to become so complacent.<p>

This witch seemed different than Eliza. Kreacher was not naïve. He knew that Harry had been interviewing possible spouses since he'd left Hogwarts. While Eliza had been unsuitable, the one before her had obviously captured Harry's interest. By the looks of things, this one, this Eva Flanagan as Harry had introduced her, was different in her own way. She had a secret, though Kreacher couldn't divine what it might be.

Kreacher watched as Harry led the young witch out of the Sitting Room to the stairs. As the couple reached the edge of the elf's hearing, Harry explained to her, "At first Kreacher and I couldn't stand each other. Now I don't know what I'd do without him."

The house elf smiled as he blinked out of the Sitting Room. He understood exactly how Harry felt. He felt the very same way.

* * *

><p>"I wish I could have been a fly on a wall during that conversation," was a phrase used often in wizard circles. Only one witch in all of England was actually capable of knowing the joy.<p>

While Rita Skeeter wasn't a fly she could transform into a beetle. That's exactly what she did when she heard the tinkle of the bells in the Daily Prophet's reception area. It took a few moments but she flittered herself into the room and landed on a nearby wall.

Disappointed, she almost flew back into the writers' offices when she saw that it was only Eva Flanagan, the receptionist, who'd dropped in. The young witch was sorting through paperwork and writing notes at her desk. Rita stopped, though, when Quilvash, the Editor, barrelled in grumbling, "Have anything for me yet, Eve?"

The receptionist jumped, startled. "No," she answered reluctantly.

"I swear," the Editor wagged a meaty finger, "If you don't show me something soon then I will find me another assistant. I should have sacked you the moment I found out you were dating the boy."

Eva did her best to pretend she was ignoring him. This only made him angry, "You've seen the birds that boy frequents. What makes you think he'd possibly choose you over any of them? One's an Auror, two are professional Seekers and, from what I've been told, there's a bloody Veela eyeing him all the way from South France..."

He paused knowing he'd struck a nerve. She'd tightened her grip on her quill when he'd mentioned the Veela. She was still pretending to ignore him but her handwriting became sharper - less bubbly. He leaned on her desk to get her full attention, "Don't let your imagination betray you. Wealthy wizards don't marry receptionists. Receptionists are what wealthy wizards pass the time with while they _search_ for the proper witch to marry."

She looked ready to argue but Quilvash put a stop to it by raising his voice, "Are you daft? How many real life Cinderellas do you know? And what do you have to offer besides beauty? All of these witches have beauty and _more_..." he turned to walk away, "...talent, fame..." he turned back and grinned, "but what do I know? Maybe yours is a storybook romance after all. Perhaps tomorrow I'll be begging you for the rights to publish your real-life story.

Eva looked ready to cry. These were the moments that Quilvash relished, "Get something good. If it's good enough I'll even let you write the story." The door slammed behind him.

Rita licked her mandibles. Information was her entire business. She wasn't sure exactly how this nugget would prove useful but she was sure if she thought long and hard on it she'd find something.


	37. TP 37 Sparks Fly

**Chapter 37 – Sparks Fly**

**Submitted: Sunday 11 November 2012**

"I don't care what your intentions were. What you did wasn't right." Harry was as angry as Bill had seen him in some time.

To her credit, his wife wasn't backing down one bit, "What did I do? I only told her the truth." Fleur's hands were set firmly on her hips so that she looked an awful lot like a defiant Victoire protesting a punishment. "I would think that with Gabrielle arriving next week that you'd have at least broached the subject yourself. Did you forget she was coming or did you intend to duck your commitment altogether?"

Harry was struck dumb. Twice he opened his mouth and pointed but he couldn't force the words out...at least none he could say out loud.

Fleur baited him, "Did you have _any _intention of honouring your promise?" She batted her eyelashes for good measure.

Bill expected Harry to explode. Fleur could do that to someone. She knew just where to place the dagger and when to dig it deep. Harry's weakness was his word. She wasn't the sort to pull punches either...nothing was off limits to her when it came to an argument. Bill had spent more than one night in his old room at the Burrow in an effort not to strangle the gorgeous vixen after some well placed words on her part.

Harry still hadn't spoke. He looked like he was desperately gathering his thoughts so that he didn't blurt out a curse.

Fleur's hands were still on her hips. She raised an eyebrow and began tapping a foot as if to ask, 'Well?"

His answer was barely audible, "I didn't know she was going to be here so soon." Remembering his anger, his voice rose, "You could have said something to me first. Eve's a nice girl."

Fleur intentionally kept her response level and calm, "I thought what I was doing was complimenting you." Again she reached for her verbal dagger, "And how _sure_ are you of how sweet this witch is?"

"Eve?" Harry was confused. "What do you mean?"

Fleur prepared her crushing blow. She really meant Harry no harm but if he was going to date her sister then he'd have to get past all of this rubbish with Eve. He honestly could not take care of himself when it came to the witches. He wanted to see the best in everyone.

She pulled out her copy of _**Witch Weekly**_. Opening to the back page and handing it to him, she asked, "Has Hermione not shown this to you yet?"

Harry hadn't bothered to speak to anyone that morning. In fact, his first order of business when he woke was to tell off Fleur. The moment Eve had left the evening before he planned exactly what he'd say and how he'd say it. They'd spent a few hours at his place snogging and talking. It tore his heart out the way Fleur had taken this tender witch and nearly broken her heart. So, when Harry glanced at the paper he wasn't even sure what he was looking at.

The picture was innocent enough. It was a candid shot of him strolling with Eva along Diagon Alley. He didn't remember the picture...by the decorations along the Alley it likely was taken in May before he'd left for Rome.

"What am I looking at?" asked an exasperated Harry.

Fleur pointed to the caption:

_Fact or Fiction? An unidentified source at the Daily Prophet claims that Miss Eva Flanagan has been paid by the paper to use her relationship with Harry Potter to gather damaging information to be used in a future story. A full detail of the scandal will be provided next week in a special edition of your Witch Weekly._

* * *

><p>Sometimes Rita frightened herself with her brilliance – and her quick thinking. She knew she didn't yet have enough for a story. It also wasn't much of a stretch to surmise that she'd be sacked on the spot if she even tried to publish the story in her own paper. What was a writer to do?<p>

It was only known to a select few but Rita had written a few stories for _**Witch Weekly**_. Usually these were stories that she knew might embarrass her own paper or that she didn't want her own name attached to. She'd used the pseudonym Tari Streek because it went with the gossipy quality of the writing she did under the moniker. But it wasn't like Rita Skeeter ever used her real name anyhow.

Margarita Godzislawa Skatarvsky was born in England to a powerful witch and a Polish wizard who imported magic carpets from the Mideast. Her parents first met at the Quidditch World Cup the year it was held outside of Warsaw. Within a year they had a baby on the way.

Her name produced unlimited material for the young wizards at Hogwarts. Each morning at breakfast one of the Ravenclaw First Years would produce a lewd poem which he'd read to the entire table in the Great Hall. The challenge was to never use the same version of her name twice and the boys took it seriously. The readings were so embarrassing that Margarita began to fantasize about transforming into something so small that she was invisible.

Soon young Margarita was sneaking into the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library and reading books such as _**Taking New Forms**_ and _**Finding the Animagus Within You**_. All of them insisted that becoming an Animagus required special talent and could not simply be learned. All the same, each gave step by step instructions as to how those talented witches and wizards would go about _'Transforming yourself into the you that you should have always been.' _

After her first successful transformation, she began to imagine implications greater than simply ducking the blokes that tormented her. Revenge was her second fantasy. She began sneaking into the boy's flats and learning each of her bullies' deepest darkest secrets. In a self-published leaflet she began conjuring up all manner of stories about the going-ons at Hogwarts and the gossip of the day. The leaflets, written under the pseudonym Rita Skeeter, were first published and distributed to students free of charge. Soon, though, the publication was in such a heavy demand that her schoolmates were sending a knut a month with their owls to ensure prompt delivery.

It was Dumbledore who first learned the true identity of Rita Skeeter. Strangely, after reminding her that she should stick to the facts when publishing stories about her fellow students, he sent an owl to the then publisher of the Daily Prophet recommending her for a position as an intern during the holiday months. '_You would be well served to take a close look at young Margarita. She has a nose for a story and a unique talent for getting at the details._'

Dumbledore never once told anyone about her unique gift – even those fateful months during the Tri-wizard Tournament when all of Hogwarts was wondering how she was getting her facts. She'd often wondered why he was so very fond of his secrets. It was as if he felt perpetually compelled to keep others' secrets so that he could collect them for only himself. That was exactly it – he was a collector of secrets.

As her thoughts returned to the article, she again gushed with pride. Truth was, she had no story. She'd raced to the editor at Witch Weekly and promised her a full page exclusive if she published the caption and the picture. Of course, she negotiated a hefty sum for the exclusive but that would only be paid if she came up with a full-blown publishable piece.

The genius of the caption was not just that it would sell papers over the weekend. The main reason for it was to generate enough tension in her own office that people began to speak. She'd lie in wait and listen...hopefully digging up enough dirt that she'd be able to publish the oohey gooey story that she knew by instinct was there. She rubbed her hands together as she finished her tea and she prepared for her day as 'a fly on the wall' at the _**Daily Prophet.**_

* * *

><p>Lavender was having the time of her life being Lavender again. It had been so long...holing herself up like a hermit in that dank cottage had affected her in many ways she had not even realised. Even now, a week after her <em>transformation<em>, she found herself struck dumb in large crowds. She simply couldn't speak.

Hermione had been a great help. The two of them spent entire afternoons at Diagon Alley shopping and admiring the changes since the Renaissance that had occurred after the War. Lavender would sometimes lose herself in the brightly coloured shops and the displays along the Alley. When a shopkeeper would ask Lavender a question it was often Hermione who answered.

Hannah caught sight of the young Gryfindors they stepped into the Leaky Cauldron. She dropped everything and nearly tackled Lavender with a hug, "Lav! Where have you been hiding? I'd heard you'd been hurt but not a word since!"

Lavender shrugged. This caused Hannah to giggle, "Well, while you find your tongue why don't you have a seat. I'll bring you lot a Butterbeer and some chips to start you out!"

As the witches found a table, Hannah rushed into the kitchen. In a matter of moments she was dragging a tall well-built wizard close behind. His hands were full...a basket of chips in one and a handful of Butterbeers in another. Hannah gloated as if she'd won a major argument, "See? It's her!"

"I never said it wasn't," Neville mumbled as he placed four bottles and a basket on the table. "I said, 'give me a moment and I will get napkins.'" With that, he placed utensils and napkins on the table as well. He opened the bottles and passed one to each witch. Then he took one for himself and announced, "To old mates."

Once they'd clinked bottles and had a sip, Lavender finally gathered the courage to speak, "I'd heard you'd grown, but..."

Hannah sniggered and wrapped an arm around her husband, "And he's still growing. What are you now, dear? Six foot four?"

Neville shrugged awkwardly. Again his wife giggled, "Have you seen Ron? It's as if the two have a wager going."

"Aye, but Ron isn't so...sturdy," Lavender answered as she tested one of Neville's biceps with an impressed, "Mmmm." She gestured with her eyes, "That is some apron, Neville,"

Neville blushed as he unceremoniously pulled off the dainty apron, "Our cook is ill. I was helping out."

Hannah couldn't help but add a jibe, "And the only real benefit that he gets out of the whole mess is to wear that frilly little apron."

He was about to argue but her puckered up lips offered a sweet truce. He bent down to kiss her and all was forgotten. Instead he asked Hermione, "How is Harry?"

"Harry is Harry," Hermione mused, "He's brooding, of course. According to Bill, he and Fleur had an epic row and they're not speaking. I don't know specifics but it had something to do with that whole mess with Eva."

A gnarly old wizard a few tables over interject himself into the conversation, "Serves him right if ye ask me. If you nest with enough birds eventually one will sing..."

Neville's glare was hint enough. The old bloke quickly paid and left a half full pint as he scanterred out the door.

Hermione muffled a laugh, "Intimidating customers? That won't get you return business."

Lavender was quickly returning to herself, "I would have left too. Who wants to admit to his mates that he had his arse kicked by some bloke wearing an apron?"

* * *

><p>It didn't take long for Seamus to grow impatient with the rules, "Why can't we snog?"<p>

"You _know_ why," Lavender answered. "I've explained countless times." She wasn't in the mood to argue at the moment. It was inevitable. Blokes always wanted what they couldn't have. If they ever did move in together, she was going to insist he wasn't allowed to clean toilets.

She loved to lie down next to him with her head on his chest. He had a short patch of hair on his chest that she liked to twirl around her fingers to take her mind off of things. She had hoped for silence but tonight he was going on and on about snogging.

"This whole wish thing," he ran his fingers through her hair. It made her shiver when he brushed her ear. "...it could have it's own uses. I could wish any sort of thing."

"Knowing you, you'd wish these were bigger," she teased as she made a cupping gesture. "Where would I be then?" She smacked him playfully when he sniggered, "Stop!"

"Nay," he dismissed the thought with the wave of a hand, "The girls are perfect just as they are."

"The girls?" She bit him playfully near a rib in protest, "That's what you call them?"

"Aye, Stella and Sabrina."

"Might I ask why?" Lavender asked.

"Nay," Seamus answered with a thick grin. "I've already said too much."

"You really are very odd. What if I do this," she asked with a grin of her own. "Will you tell me then?"

Seamus's eyes grew very wide, "Why would I possibly say anything to stop you from doing that?"

"Who said I would?" she quipped.

He didn't bother to say more. Instead he kiss her on her cheek as he relished the moment. His only wish was he could actually kiss her beautiful lips instead. It was hard to believe how much he missed such a simple thing.

* * *

><p>Gabrielle stepped out of the Floo wearing her school robes. Unlike, the traditional Hogwarts robes, the witches at Beaubatons usually preferred pastel or brightly coloured robes during the spring and summer seasons. Gabrielle knew that the pale blue of her robes brought out her eyes and complimented her golden blonde hair.<p>

Bill smiled knowingly as he glanced up from his notes. He'd been working on a curse all afternoon.

"Are you not going to at least say hello?" Gabrielle asked as she rushed up to him and kissed him happily on the cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Bill sighed. "Gringotts asked me to look at a curse that they found at a tomb in the Valley. A particularly nasty one, in fact." He held up his notebook, "I ran into some similar ones a few years back and I'm comparing my notes to look for leads...otherwise I might have to travel there myself."

"The Valley?" Gabrielle shrugged, I'm not familiar with all of England. Where is the Valley?"

"Sorry," Bill grinned sheepishly, "The Valley of Kings, in Egypt. It's where a good number of the pharoahs are buried. Many of them are cursed to protect the dead from being disturbed. This one had what looked like a bottle for a djinn and the bloke felt compelled to rub it and he won't say a thing to a soul now. He just sits curled up and sobbing all his waking hours. They're afraid if they don't solve it soon he'll starve himself to death."

Gabrielle nodded. She'd read about Egypt in her history of Magic classes at Beauxbatons. French witches and wizards specializing in runes and other written arts were used as part of the exercise to relearn the Egyptian pictograph language when Napoleon had conquered the country in the late 1700s. Even Egyptian mystics had ignored the ancient writings for centuries and it wasn't until the Rosetta Stone was found that the French made real progress.

Bill set his notes on the sofa and stood up so he could show her to her room, "Your sister won't be back for at least an hour. She's gone to the Alley to pick up a few things." He looked her up and down, "Erm, still in your robes?" He lowered his voice as if sharing a secret, "Harry won't be here any time soon. Even if he were...between you and me...it won't likely help him get over the whole age thing if he's reminded you just finished school."

The young witch blushed. Bill had never acknowledged her crush on Harry. He'd always politely stayed out of the whole affair due to Harry's previous relationship with Ginny. She'd always had the impression that he'd hoped the two of them would reconcile.

"...Your chest is waiting for you in your room," Bill went on. "I had it shipped directly here. You may want to get your room made as you want it this evening...and I wouldn't mention Harry tonight. At least wait until morning."

It was as if Bill could read the question in her mind, "Your sister was in rare form a few nights ago and the resulting row was one for the ages. You know how your sister is. She stepped over a line this time and hetold her he didn't want to have anything to do with her. She sent him a few owls but they were returned with the messages still fastened tightly too them. She refuses to admit it but she's rather upset."

"What did she say? What did she do?" Gabrielle was worried.

Bill glanced toward a week-old copy of Witch Weekly, "She let her heart cloud her judgment."

* * *

><p>"I don't know what to do," Fleur sounded miserable.<p>

"Why don't you own up to it?" Hermione asked. She was skimming through racks of robes and only half of her attention was on Fleur and her problems. She'd invited Fleur to come with her robe shopping because both needed to get out of the house and Hermione was beginning to grow out of the robes she had on hand. It made shopping awkward because she was determined not to share her secret with anyone in the Weasley family. Lavender had been clear about that.

"What would I say to heem?" Fleur was gradually losing her French accent but occasionally it would slip out when she was upset. Not able to wait for an answer, she gave her future sister-in-law a closer look as she noticed the plus-sized robes that Hermione was admiring, "Herminee, I've been meaning to say sometheeng. Kreecher's cooking is doing you no good at all. You reelly must watch more closely what you eet...and how much."

Hermione blushed. She'd noticed others trying to catch discreet glances. She really hadn't grown that much but she'd begun filling out the sides of her robes so that the small bump wouldn't be as noticeable. The mirror told her that she might have gained a good twenty or so pounds but most of it was her illusion. Thankfully, the mirror was lying...if anything, the healers claimed she needed to put on more weight.

As she found another rack of plus sized robes, Fleur preached on, "And when did you take to wearing robes all of the time? Jeans suit you much better." The Veela wouldn't stop there, "You do not want to get fat like me. After Victoire I look at myself and all I see is a fat cow."

Hermione stopped what she was doing and looked Fleur up and down. She couldn't be an ounce heavier than her days at Hogwarts. Fleur had always been fit and trim. This was obviously an attempt to fish for a compliment. Hermione would have none of it, "Oh, you are so right... Just the way your cheeks have fleshed out. And your hips...I promise, I'll begin taking better care of myself right away."

Never in her life had Hermione fought so hard to hold in a giggle. Fleur's face was a mask of horror. The Veela ran to the mirror and studied her hips and her cheeks carefully, "Do you reelly theenk so? Am I reelly getting fat, Herminee?" The Veela was pinching her perfect cheeks, desperately looking for imperfections. Her hands then held her hips, tightening the clothing to see if there could be an ounce of fat hiding there.

"No!" Hermione fought not to laugh, "You are perfect. Just like yesterday and last year and the day I met you. Are you mad? You looked better than me on my best day when you gave birth!"

Realising that Hermione had been taking the piss out of her, Fleur exhaled. It was only then that Hermione recognised just how self-conscious Fleur was about her appearance. It must be difficult for Fleur's considering her appearance was the only thing that she'd heard anyone compliment her on. She was sure Bill complimented her about other things but everyone else..?

"Fleur, you do know that you are much more than just a beautiful woman, don't you?"

The Veela was still studying the mirror for imperfections, "Oui. It has been very deeficult, reecently, though."

"Why?"

The Veela's striking blue eyes betrayed the sadness that she was usually so good at hiding, "When a Veela, or even a quarter Veela in my case, binds herself to a wizard, she can't help but feel what her companion feels. When he is happy she is happy. When he is sad she is sad."

"Has Bill had problems, recently?"

The smile returned to Fleur's eyes, "No...no, no. It is only that Bill spends much of his time travelling. He returned home a few nights ago when Harry and I had our row. He sides with Harry on this one."

"So you are arguing?" Hermione thought she understood.

"No, not exactly. But I can sense that he wants Harry to return to Ginny. It is a feeling I get. And I have been the one to push him away."

"So...?"

"Imagine that every instinct in your body told you to please your companion," Fleur tried to explain. "But you fought that instinct. In my case, I feel compelled to do this. When I push him away from me I don't feel the absolute adoration he has for me. If you could feel it..." Fleur seemed to be talking more to herself now, "It's like a warm blanket that protects me. I feel beautiful and perfect."

Now Hermione did understand, "And when you argue with him you don;t feel it so you doubt yourself?"

"Every moment," Fleur returned to studying the mirror. "And I know that's how my sister feels. Imagine falling in love with some bloke and suddenly every emotion you have is somehow affected by his feelings for you. All your life, any boy you bat your eyelashes at falls madly for you. But not this one. All you feel from him is pity and embarrassment."

"That would be difficult," Hermione admitted.

"She's my seester. When he brought that witch to the Weesley's I could feel how he felt for her. It was like the small sparks you would feel when someone would rub their boots on the carpet and zap you..." Fleur explained. Hermione had forgotten all about the robes and was listening intently, "...Harry projects so much raw emotion that even I can feel it and I'm not even bound to him. When he would look at that Eva I could feel those sparks and I began to feel..."

"...Attracted to him?"

"No!" Fleur insisted. "I'm bound to Bill." She smiled mischievously, "But I wanted Bill to come home. Had he been at the Burrow that night we'd have slipped upstairs and I'd have given him a good _**talking**__** to**_."

"What?!" Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. "So you are saying...?"

"Oui! It's not the first time either. You know the whole story about how Victoire was conceeved, oui?" Hermione nodded and the Veela grinned, "You don't know what brought it on." She eyed Hermione carefully, "That night, Ginny kept teasing Harry and flirting with him when others weren't watching. I can always tell...because those sparks begin to flare up. Anyway, she kept going on and on with him that night until finally I couldn't take it anymore. I dragged Bill into the elevator and you know the rest of the story." Fleur looked like a huge weight of a secret was lifted off of her.

"Wait." Hermione thought carefully on what she'd been told, "So you're saying that your not attracted to Harry? But Harry makes you feel frisky?"

Fleur nodded, "Oui."

"But not toward Harry? Harry brings it on but it's actually toward Bill?"

The Veela nodded again. This time it was obvious that she wanted very badly for Hermione to believe her.

"You are one complicated witch," Hermione remarked as she shook her head.

"Thee point ees," Fleur explained as she reverted back to her French accent, "If Harry has that much of an affect on mee can you eemagine how Gabrielle feels?"

Both stood in silence as Hermione took in what was said. It all started with Fleur telling her that she felt self-doubt when she argued with her husband. Then she went on to tell her that Harry would act like an aphrodisiac to her...even though she wasn't attracted to him. This was the type of thing that the Weasley boys would never let Fleur or Bill...or Harry...live down if it ever got out.

"Does Bill know?"

For the first time that Hermione could remember Fleur looked at her like she was stupid, "Are you keedding?"

Hermione understood. This was their secret. And now Hermione could tell that Fleur regretted saying anything, "I promise not to tell anyone."

"I believe you," Fleur said quietly. Her expression seemed to say otherwise.

An odd silence stood like a wall between them.

"Would it help if I told you that I'm pregnant?" Hermione blurted out.

"That would make me feel better. At least then I would know I was not the only one keeping a secret." Fleur stopped and took a moment to look at Hermione, "Wait. _**Are**_ you pregnant?"

Hermione bit her lip. Her first instinct had been to cover her mouth in horror when she said it. Instead she nodded nervously.

"Why haven't you told told aneeone?" the Veela asked. "Her eyes followed Hermione to the oversized robes, "You don't want anyone to know, do you? Why not?"

Silence was Hermione's only answer.

Fleur lost interest in the 'why.' Instead she stepped over to the robes and began pulling selct ones off the rack, "Thees one weell look good on you. And thees one. And thees one will compliment your eyes. Thees one weell take the focus off of your lower body." In all, she handed Hermione seven robes that all turned out fitting and looking brilliant. As Hermione carried them to the fitting room she was more than confident that her secret was safe.

"I'll talk to Harry about Gabrielle," Hermione promised once the shopping was done.

The Veela's eyes were thankful but she brushed the idea off with a hand, "We'll worry about that later, Herminee." Her eyes were bright, "We have so much to do! You're having a baby!"

**A/N: Want to make me smile? Then please let me know what you think. Nothing makes me happier.**


	38. TP 38 Fact or Fiction?

**Chapter 38 - Fact or Fiction?**

**Submitted: Sunday 18 Nov 2012 Prev. Sub.: Sun 11 Nov 2012**

**A/N: I've said this before but we are entering the stretch run. I must admit, I never had the intention of adding Harry's relationship with Eva to the story...at least in such detail. It serves a purpose. I expect the last few chapters to be intense so keep an eye on the dates of the last submitted chapters to avoid Spoilers. My hope is to have Aphrodite's Kiss finished by end of year (or mid-January latest) so don't be surprised if I submit two or more chapters in a week on occasion. In fact, the next chapter is already written and will be submitted Thursday or Friday of this week. **

**One last thing: I originally planned to write a sequel to this story but I'm wondering if there is interest enough to do so. Frankly, besides two people, I don't see many reviews so I'm not sure what the real interest is. I'm not pandering for reviews but if you would like me to continue then let me know – either with a review or a private message. Writing this story takes a tremendous amount of time and while I get satisfaction in writing it I'd like to know I was writing for an audience. You don't have to let me know right now...but I'm going to have to begin the research for the back-story of the sequel by mid-December. The plan is going to be for an action suspense with less romance and a gradual introduction of select children. **

In all, there were two articles written by the mysterious Tari Streek concerning the _Eva Flanagan Scandal_. The first was titled, _**Fact or Fiction? Fiction!**_ and was written a full week after the caption that had enraged the magic world. It debunked the rumour that _**Witch Weekly**_ had itself started – beginning the story on the day Quilvash had first threatened Eva Flanagan and ending the day that she was 'wrongfully accused.' Eva Flanagan was portrayed as a brave witch who stood up to her Editor and stood for the wizard she loved. The story left the reader feeling sympathy for Eva and hoping desperately for a happy ending for both her and her love.

The second article came a week later. It was titled, aptly, _**The Great Apology**_ and told the story of the fallout of the whole affair:

_He entered the offices of the **Daily Prophet** early Monday morning. What he found was a teary-eyed witch packing the contents of her desk into a small box. The young witch couldn't look him in the eye. Instead, she focused on the last of her things._

"Eve?" Harry tried to get her to look at him but each time he moved his head to catch her gaze she'd turn in another direction. She continued to pick up the last memories of her life at the Prophet.

"Eve?" he asked again, "I tried to reach you by owl. I went to your place. Where have you been?"

She couldn't keep her silence any longer, "Me? Where have _**I**_ been? Where were you Harry? Where were you all last week when my life was spinning out of control? I sent an owl but heard nothing. I tried to reach you at your home but I found that I could no longer remember where you lived. I tried the Ministry but they said you spend most of your time in the field."

"My mates thought it would be a good idea if I..."

"Act like a coward?" Eva hissed. "Oh, you were _**more **_than apologetic when the full story came out. I received the owl post...and the flowers...and all that other rubbish!" She threw the flowers he'd sent her but they flew harmlessly to his left. Shattered glass could be heard behind him but he didn't dare look back.

"How was I supposed to know...?"

"You couldn't've known Harry!" Eve shouted. "That is where faith comes in! Didn't you consider once just asking?"

Harry did consider asking. More than once. It wasn't so much that he was afraid of anything she could have done or written but that he was afraid that what had been written was true. He couldn't face the idea that she would have fooled him so easily.

He had never loved her. He knew that. But he fancied her. She was pretty. She was smart. She was fun. True, they were more like mates than boyfriend and girlfriend. When they snogged there wasn't the same passion as with Ginny or Eliza. Even so, he cared about her and it made him feel awful that he'd hurt her.

When Fleur had shown him that picture of the two of them at Diagon Alley in the paper and the words written beneath, his blood froze. So did his heart. He felt betrayed. It was true too. He _had_ ignored her calls. But he'd ignored everyone's calls. He buried himself in his work and he and his partner Marianne conspired to work as much overtime as they could before her daughter returned from Hogwarts the following week. It was the only financial help that Marianne would allow Harry to provide. She wouldn't take any actual gold but she'd allow him to work the extra hours with her so that she could gather the extra wages.

Then he saw the full article in _**Witch Weekly**_ the following weekend. He was mortified. It was only then that Harry realised that she had not only been innocent...but his protector. She'd been verbally abused and tormented for months by her editor because of him. And then, as thanks, instead of being the knight in shining armour he fashioned himself to be, he left her to face reams of hate mail and her abusive boss all alone. He remembered how lonely he felt during the Tri-Wizard Tournament when the press had come after him and he only felt worse.

And that's when he tried desperately to get in touch with her. He tried everything...except visit the Prophet. At first he couldn't make himself walk through those doors. He was afraid that would only make things worse.

But now he was finally here.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? For abandoning me?" she asked shrilly. She gestured to the floor, "Maybe your sorry for letting all of your so-called _**fans**_ send me these sacks full of rubbish? Might it be for the hourly arrival of Howlers from all manner of witches who wanted me to know that I didn't deserve such a '_brave and loving wizard_?'"

Eva closed her box. She was done packing. "I've been sacked, Harry. I don't know why but I'm actually a little happy about it. I have no job and no prospects. My dream of eventually becoming a writer is dead. What's sad, Harry, is not that I'm upset that I lost my job or my dreams or even my dignity. I'm upset that the one bloke that I thought would stand by me no matter what...instead abandoned me the first time there was any sort of conflict."

She wasn't finished, "I thought I loved you, Harry. I had these fantasies of you fearlessly saving me from a terrifyingly evil wizard and then carrying me away to live happily ever. I was certain you'd protect me from any danger. Little did I know that when I faced my most terrifying moment...that the one thing that would make you run with fear would be one _itty-bitty_ lie." She picked up her box and carried it to the door, "You couldn't even protect me from that."

The conclusion to the third and final article said it all:

_Harry watched as she walked out the door. This was no longer a sad witch. There was no slouch in her shoulders or pause in her step. If anything, Harry had offered her the opportunity to walk out with dignity...she now had closure. Despite all of the indignities of the previous week, she had stood up to the one person who'd wronged her most. _

_She walked away with her dignity and her soul intact. Not many in the field of journalism can say the same. _

_That said, this story is tragic no matter how one looks at it. Miss Flanagan was bullied and coerced by her boss. She was mistrusted and neglected by her boyfriend. Ultimately she lost her job protecting someone who abandoned her. Let's all hope this poor witch's tragic story at least ends happily._

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ

This was not the type of story that Rita Skeeter wrote but it was vintage Tari Streek. Tari Streek was everything that Rita had buried beneath years of experience. Long jaded by the lies and embellishments, she eventually forgot that the truth even mattered.

Rita sat reading her final story yet again. She was still proud that it had rated the front page. As she sipped her tea, she felt the odd sensation that she was being watched.

"Are you happy?" Harry asked as he plopped down in the booth opposite her.

"How did you find me here?" Rita asked...more annoyed than worried.

"I've been looking for you for months," Harry mused. "It wasn't until your article that I spoke with a certain Editor at Witch Weekly. She told me you liked to frequent this place when you weren't researching a story."

"That cow," Rita complained.

"She didn't tell me that you wrote the story. She only told me where to find you."

Rita raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"I read that story over and over again and all the while I tried to figure out who could have heard our entire conversation. It's surprising how easy it is to forget that you are an Animagus. Hermione would have caught it right off but I haven't been in any mood to speak to anyone."

"And so you remembered I was an Animagus and Bob's your uncle, eh?" Rita quipped.

"Actually, no," Harry frowned. But I have become brilliant with anagrams. After the fourth or so reading I noticed a striking similarity between Tari Streek and Rita Skeeter."

"And so?" Rita sipped her tea. It needed warming up. "You're here to warn me to stop writing about Eva? Will you _wallop_ me, like you did my editor, if I refuse to stop?"

"No." It was Harry's turn to frown, "I was just curious. Doesn't it bother you? You ruined her career and our relationship with little more than a caption and a picture. And none of it was true."

"I followed up with the truth in the article. I made it very clear that she never in any way had intended to write about you. And then the final article vindicated her entirely. My readers learned that despite everyone's unfair words for her, it was you that deserved the better amount of it."

"And all of the pain you caused her?" Harry asked.

Rita wasn't going to honour that question with an answer, "Have you spoken to her?"

"Won't have a thing to do with me," he answered wistfully, "and rightfully so. I was a right arse."

"I must admit," Rita observed, "that was very unHarry-like of you. I've never known you to doubt one of your mates – especially a bird. Normally you come to their defence with both wands blazing. What happened?"

Harry reflected, "I had a bad experience." He was about to go into more detail but he quickly sobered to the sound of quill scratching paper, "Wait, why am I telling you?"

Rita couldn't hold back a grin. "Oh, _do_ go on," she dared him.

Harry's scowl signalled an end to the sharing. She dropped it, "That's fair enough. I'm sad to hear that the two of you didn't work out. Would it make you feel better if I told you that Phil offered Eva a position at _**The Quibbler**_ as a junior writer?"

"Luna's dad?" Harry asked. "I thought he wrote everything himself."

"Luna's dad?" Rita thought for a moment, "Oh, yes, the very one. Mr. Lovegood was quite impressed with her moral character and he has her writing an article for his next edition...so the only real tragedy was that the two of you didn't work out."

She wasn't about to tell Harry that she had recommended the young witch herself or that the arrangement was on a trial basis. Cleaning up a mess caused by her writing wasn't something that Rita would have even considered doing...but it was precisely something Tari Streek, or even Margarita Skatarvsky, would do.

"Tell me, Harry. This is off the record," she promised, "did you at least love her?"

Harry's eyes told her everything she needed to know.

She sighed, "I suppose it wasn't all that tragic after all."

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Gabrielle woke in high spirits. The morning before she'd read an article in Witch Weekly that all but announced the end of Harry's relationship with that receptionist he'd been seeing. Her fears that this summer would wind up like the last had been completely unfounded.

Even better, Hermione had dropped by later that evening promising to take her to see Harry herself. Until then she'd feared that his row with Fleur might leave her with no excuse to see him. She'd spent nearly a week at Shell Cottage with little more to do than play with Victoire and the tiny little elves.

They were growing so fast. Already the young elves were walking and speaking rudimentary English. Their mum, Winky, lavished them with attention and when she wasn't caring for the cottage she was cooing over them. The two elves looked identical except by what they wore. Both sported large brown eyes, floppy pointy ears, and smiles that often reached from ear to ear. Tinkles was dressed just like her mum in a white tunic fashioned out of a small pillow case and refused even to wear socks.

Dumbles wore an oddly striped shirt that was as bright and varied as a rainbow. His trousers were silky and black with little red clowns embroidered on them. A silky jester's hat flopped over an ear and polka-dotted slippers with little fuzzy balls on the end protruded out from under his trouser legs. The slippers made his feet look several sizes larger than they were and completed his look. Victoire had undressed a toy clown of her's a few weeks before and fitted the clothes on the pint sized elf. Dumbles had refused to take off the outfit ever since.

Often Tinkles and Dumbles could be found with Victoire in her playroom playing Princesses and Dragons.

Little Dumbles could already be heard roaring this morning as the half-sized witch and the even smaller elf squealed in mock fright. Victoire called out, "Somewon pwease hep us fwom the dwagon!"

Bill's voice soon rumbled through the hall. He could be heard trying to lower his voice to a baritone but it was humorously forced, "I've come to save you damsel. Take care and ride my steed to safety!"

Victoire giggled, "But daaaddy, what will Tinkles wide? She's in twubble too!"

And it went on like that as Gabrielle pulled herself from her cosy bed. The smell of bacon filled her with optimism. She was certain that she and Hermione would be received well. The only question would be how fast she'd push things. It would be bad form to push too hard for a date before he'd had time to get over that receptionist. Bill had shown her the first little blurb to give her context. The article that followed was very long and sad. She felt a little remorse for her rival but only a little.

The final article had been heart-wrenching. Despite how she felt for Harry, it broke her heart to have to see all of the torture that the public had put that witch Eva through. Then to see Eva leave both the Daily Prophet and Harry on her own terms gave Gabrielle loads of respect for her. She found herself rooting for the witch by the end of the story.

But she could also tell that the whole ordeal had been hard on Harry. She was going to have to be very careful how she approached him because any wrong move or misinterpretation of his feelings would make for a quick end to her dreams. This would be as difficult as anything she'd ever done. She'd never had to pursue a bloke before. She preferred being the pursued.

Gabrielle tied her robe tightly around her waist and followed the smell of bacon. Harry would have to wait.

ZZZZZZZZZZZ

Harry met Gabrielle in the Sitting Room. Well, it wasn't so much a meeting as an ambush. He was relaxed on a sofa with a cup of tea in one hand and a book in another when the Floo flashed the familiar green warning that a visitor had arrived. A second flash and Hermione had arrived as well, "Morning Harry!"

"What the...?"

"Mind your language, Harry. We have a visitor!"

Hermione was in rare form. She was sick of Harry's moping the past few days and her promise to Fleur seemed as good an excuse as any to get Harry to do _something_. Madeline's mother Marianne had taken her holiday to coincide with Madeline's first week back from from Hogwarts. Harry was left with no-one to hold him accountable at the Ministry. He'd taken to lounging around the house all day in his pyjamas and even now he was reading. She'd wondered weeks before what he'd do now that the necklace was found. Nothing! He was doing nothing and it was driving Hermione insane.

"I can see that!" Harry answered with a syrupy happiness that promised he was not happy at all. Gabrielle shifted her weight from one foot to another as her confidence slipped away. Harry looked positively angry, "You could have warned me that you were going to have guests."

"Harry, _**we**_ have _**a**_ guest!" she corrected. She flopped down next to her mate on the sofa with all of the drama she could muster. His cup jerked and what was left spilled onto his lap.

He sighed and pulled out his wand. As he banished the cold liquid away, Hermione mused, "Careful, one slip and we might be calling you Harriette."

The young wizard gaped at her. Hermione never acted like this, "Have you lost your mind? What has gotten into you?"

"No," Hermione grinned, "My mind is precisely where it should be. On the contrary, your manners are nowhere to be found. Will you invite our guest to take a seat?"

Harry could only sit open-mouthed. Hermione was acting rather oddly. Eventually he recovered his wits, "Good morning, Gabrielle. Please, sit."

The Veela took no time to take a seat. She wanted badly to sit instead in the sofa opposite her...next to Harry in his pyjamas and robe. Her emotions were split. The better part of her wanted to leave – she could physically feel Harry's desire to be alone so that it overwhelmed her. It pressed against her heart like a weight so heavy that it made it difficult for her to breathe. The portion of her that compelled her to make her chosen companion happy was screaming at her that she needed to leave immediately.

The other portion of her whispered in her ear that she was finally here. She'd fantasized for months how this day would go. Ever since Harry had promised her _one_ date after she returned from school, she'd played out every scenario in her head...good and bad.

"Well!" Hermione interrupted. Apparently Gabrielle had gotten lost in her thoughts and the two flatmates had begun to argue, "If you are going to speak to me like that then I'm going upstairs!" She got up and stomped out of the room.

"Wait!" Harry called after her. "You're just going to leave Gabrielle here?"

It was obvious the only response he was going to get was the stomping of her boots and the eventual faint 'thwack!' as the door slammed upstairs. He did his best to smile politely at Gabrielle.

He shifted in his seat. He still held the empty cup in one hand and the book in the other. She tried to read the name on the cover but he set it down before she got the chance. The silence could have lasted for a second or for minutes...she wasn't sure.

"I can get dressed and see you home if you'd like," he finally proposed. Immediately he changed his tone, "Oh, love, what's wrong?"

She sniffed and rubbed her eyes in an attempt to drive away any tears, "Hermione asked me to come here to see you because I've been looking forward to seeing you for so long and I did as she asked and I don't know what happened but it's just gone horribly wrong and I don't know what I did." She felt impossibly warm...her cheeks had to be the brightest shade of pink, she was sure. The Veela had played out so many scenarios in her head but none had ended with her whining and crying like a little girl.

"Love, you didn't do anything," Harry assured her. "It's Hermione I'm angry with."

"But you don't want to see me," she sniffed.

"That's not true," Harry tried to assure her. "Actually, it's sort of true. But I don't want to see anyone right now. I've had a rough few weeks." He stood up, conjured a handkerchief and offered it to her, "If you'd heard anything about the whole affair, you wouldn't be so excited about seeing me."

Gabrielle was thankful for the handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes. Her voice still had a slight nasal quality as she didn't dare blow her nose in front of him, "I read the stories."

That was all it took for Harry's head to sink in defeat. However he felt about Gabrielle, he had a certain amount of pride. Knowing that someone who looked up to him had read about what he'd done made him even more ashamed than before. Flopped back down on his sofa, he asked, "Then you know all about it?"

Gabrielle merely nodded. She'd avoided the flood of tears but she desperately needed to blow her nose. She was afraid she'd snort involuntarily if she spoke a word and despite the fact he'd already given her a handkerchief she didn't want to suffer that last indignity.

"Then you know that I hurt someone I cared a lot about because I was a ruddy git," he said as much as asked.

Again she nodded.

"Then why do you want to go out on a date with me?" he asked. "I'm obviously not the type of bloke you should want to date. I am an awful cowardly fool."

She couldn't help it. She breathed in hard and an inward snort filled the room as she unstuffed herself in a most unladylike fashion. At least that was the way it sounded in her head. Thankfully, he made no indication whatsoever that he heard a thing. Now that her head was cleared somewhat, she tried to speak, "You aren't awful...or cowardly." She kicked herself inwardly – she sounded awful.

"I broke her heart," he complained.

"I'm part Veela. I can feel your pain in here," Gabrielle insisted as she pointed to her head. Thankfully she sounded better. Her confidence grew as she tried to reassure him, "You made a mistake. It was awful and terrible and it broke her heart but I can feel your remorse." She noticed him bolt a little at the word 'remorse.'

Against her better judgement, she got up and walked over to him...sitting next to him. She took his hand in hers, "Do you know why Veelas were so highly sought after in the Middle Ages?"

Harry shook his head. Hermione had told stories about their use by dark wizards but he'd never taken the time to learn specifics.

She pushed his legs apart and kneeled before him. This earned a rather humorous look of shock from him but she ignored it. Instead she began to speak in a tone so calming that he did as she asked:

"I want you to close your eyes, Harry, and think about all of the very worst things you've done the past few weeks. I want you to think about them and how they hurt those that you loved the most."

His brow furrowed and creases made his face much sharper than before. His eyes remained closed. Gabrielle began chanting in a language Harry had never heard. It was eerily similar to the speech of the mermaids in the lake at Hogwarts.

"Open your mouth like you are blowing a bubble," she instructed in a whisper.

He did as he was told. If his eyes had been open he'd have seen a smoky substance like fog or the essence of a dream flow from of his mouth. It was quickly sucked in by the young Veela.

No longer did he feel the guilt or the sadness of before. Instead he felt vibrant and full of life. In fact, his first inclination was to pull out his broom and make a couple of rounds of the nearest Quidditch pitch. So free of worry, it took him a few moments to even remember that Gabrielle was kneeling just inches away from him, "What did you do? I feel fantastic."

She, too, was full of euphoria but for a very different reason. Only inches from Harry, her chosen companion, she could feel every bit of his joy. The exhilaration was like nothing she had ever felt before. She knelt there, shaking, unable to move or speak. She wanted to feel this way forever.

"Gabrielle, are you all right?"

His concern only dulled the feeling a little. She took shallow breaths as she let the last shivers pass through her and what was left was a tingling sensation that made her want to remain as still as possible.

"Gabrielle?"

Reluctantly, she pulled herself out of her trance. As good as she felt, she didn't want to spook him. She opened her eyes only to find that everything was brighter and more colourful. She'd been told by her mother that this was how it would feel. She explained without explaining, "It is part of the ritual."

He wasn't letting anything ruin his afternoon but he didn't want to seem selfish, "I hope I didn't hurt you in any way."

'Quite the contrary,' she thought to herself. To him, "No, it didn't hurt at all."

"Well, I feel like a bite to eat. And a bit of fresh air. Maybe some ice-cream?" Harry was absolutely devoid of inhibition and he was up for anything and everything.

Gabrielle pulled herself off of the ground and was now sprawled out on the sofa opposite him. Her head was resting on an overstuffed pillow and she was relishing in the glow that was Harry's joy. It was like lying near the beach on a cool but sunny day when the warmth from the sun struck that perfect balance. She'd have stayed there forever if she could. Sparks like little wisps of electricity burst all around her aura and she could feel the snaps of the sparks all around her. She felt a yearning like she'd never felt before.

"Would you like to go eat?" Harry asked...breaking the silence. "My treat."

"Mmmm...hmmm," she answered dreamily, "But can I just lie here for a little longer before we go?"

"Sure," he answered...not even bothered that she was sprawled out. It was as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I need to go get washed up and dressed anyhow. I might even get a shave. I'll be back down in a few."

"Mmmm...hmmm," she answered. More relaxed than ever before in her life, all she wanted to do now was sleep...forever if possible. And that's what she did. She passed into a dreamless sleep and napped for a good half hour before he returned. When she woke, she was ready for anything and everything that the world dared throw at her.

ZZZZZZZ

Ron couldn't help himself, "You finally did it, didn't you?"

"Did what?" Harry asked. He had no way of seeing the spring in his step this morning.

"You know...it?" Ron asked. This time he sounded less sure of himself.

"You don't have to speak in code, Ron. I'm not a prude." Harry reminded him. He flopped merrily down into a seat in Ron's office.

Harry felt like he'd ignored his mate lately. Feeling as cheerful as he could ever remember, he decided it was time to think about others besides himself. He decided to drop into the Ministry not so much to get work done but to get some time in with his best mate. With Marianne away and all of his pressing cases closed, he only made the smallest effort to pretend he was getting work done this week.

"I know," Ron finally answered as he looked up from a report. He noted Harry's much more open demeanour, "But Hermione insists I should be more sensitive about these things with you."

Harry wasn't going to let Hermione bring him down, "You don't have to do any such thing. We're best mates. You can ask me anything."

"All right..." Ron looked unsure but he did as he was asked, "Did you...visit the Promised Land?" He tried to keep it as clean as he could. Ron knew whatever he said still might get back to Hermione.

"Erm...No." Harry answered matter-of-factly.

"Well you certainly act like it," Ron responded as he returned to his work. Without looking up he observed out loud, "I don't know who you've been spending time out with or what the two of you _**have**_ been doing but you may want to consider doing more of it."

ZZZZZZZZZZZ

That same morning Fleur found her sister enjoying a croissant in the kitchen. The young Veela pulled the pastry apart one flaky bite at a time and placed it carefully on her tongue between sips of coffee. The joy that each bite brought would have left any wizard defenceless. 'Merlin help Ron if she ever eats breakfast at Harry's,' Fleur thought to herself.

The younger Veela beamed as if she were the sun herself. Fleur couldn't help but ask, "Did you see Angels?"

Gabrielle smirked, "I appreciate that you only speak English here at the Cottage but I don't think you worded that properly."

Fleur eyed her daughter as she reassured her sister, "No, you understood perfectly."

"Oui," glowed Gabrielle. "Voir les Anges..." she added with a grin, "It does a woman good."

The last phrase caused Fleur some confusion, "What?"

"Just something I remember from a film," Gabrielle answered as her smirk grew into a full blown smile. She felt so perfectly brilliant that everything seemed either happy or funny or...happy.

Victoire chimed in over the last remaining scraps of her croissant. The little witch had torn her's into dozens of small flaky bits trying to imitate her aunt, "You saw a w_eal_ angel? What did it wook like?"

Mother and sister shared an amused look. Gabrielle was the first to answer with a wink toward the little witch's mum, "Mon Ami, you will know soon enough."

"But not _**too**_ soon," Fleur added hopefully, "Are you finished with your breakfast, dear?"

"Yes, Mum," Victoire answered politely.

"Then go on outside and play with Tinkles and Dumbles," Fleur suggested as she helped her daughter down. Once the little witch kissed her mum she ran out the door with bare feet flying. Fleur quickly returned her attention to her younger sister, "Tell me everything!"

And Gabrielle did. "The ritual worked precisely how mum said it would," Gabrielle explained to her sister.

"Did you..?"

"No," Gabrielle answered emphatically. "He was in too much pain. He still feels responsible for what happened with that witch. But once I took his guilt away...it felt..."

"Like you'd never felt before?" Fleur tried to help.

"Oui!" Gabrielle gushed. "I couldn't move. I just lie there shaking. I could feel myself shiver."

"It gets better," Fleur promised. "All you feel now is joy. When he feels joy it is like a wave of ecstasy." Fleur lowered her voice, "But the other feelings are even better. Wait until the two of you share your first kiss. And then when you..."

Gabrielle interrupted, "...There is no way I could have felt better than this. You don't understand."

Fleur smiled knowingly, "Oh, Mon Ami, I do understand. Imagine you are eating a piece of candy. Maybe a lollipop? Can you imagine that?"

"Oui," Gabrielle smiled.

"...The difference is like the difference between a lollipop and the very best chocolate truffle." Fleur smiled as she too imagined the very best truffle she'd ever had, "Lollipops are good but there is a whole other complexity of flavour to chocolate that you can't even explain unless you've tasted it yourself. That is how it feels."

The two sat in silence as the thought of truffles lingered in their heads. Each sipped their coffee and Gabrielle returned to her croissant.

Fleur finally shook herself out of her stupor, "You said Harry still feels bad about the young lady he was seeing?"

Gabrielle nodded as she sipped her coffee, "I was able to take away most the guilt and sadness with the ritual. I think he will need a few more visits before it is fully is gone. He felt really awful for what he did."

"He should," Fleur answered in a tone that was a little too judgemental for Gabrielle. Noticing the narrow stare, the elder Veela reluctantly admitted with a roll of her eyes, "I was a leetle responseeble too."

Gabrielle had no plans to offer any quarter on this subject. By now she'd pulled the entire story of what had happened from Bill. Wizards were so easy.

The younger Veela continued to glare at her sister.

"Mon Ami!" Fleur finally exclaimed as she threw up her hands in surrender, "It was _**all**_ my fault! But I deed eet for you. You would steel be lying in your bed full of despair had I not interveened. And how would I know she was eenocent?"

"Thank you," Gabrielle offered as a truce, "and you are right. I wouldn't be seeing him today if it weren't for you." The younger Veela paused, "You should apologise to him, though."

"Oui, oui...when he finally speaks to me I will," Fleur promised as she shook her head sadly.

Gabrielle glanced at the cookoo clock on the wall. It reminded her of the one the Weasleys had at the Burrow. Victoire was 'Safe at Home' as were the rest of the Weasley household. Gabrielle had recently been added but she wasn't all that sure she was comfortable with the idea.

Looking at the time she remarked, "You'll have your next opportunity in about an hour. He'll be here then to pick me up."

"What?!" Fleur's mind filled with an instant list of things to do. Unlike Mrs. Weasley, Fleur couldn't stand a thing to be out of place when visitors arrived, "Winky!"

A 'Crack!' announced Winky's arrival, "Mrs. Weasley?"

"Harry will be here in an hour! Can we have the cottage ready?" Fleur asked in a panic.

The worry was totally unnecessary. Winky got a gleam in her eye, "Guests? Winky will clean and cook and make tea!"

Gabrielle couldn't hold back a smile. Winky and Fleur were perfect for each other. Both loved to entertain and neither could stand a speck of dust in the Cottage when guests arrived. Winky loved nothing more than too cook...well, except the three little children that turned the Cottage upside down daily, of course. Still, she couldn't lead the poor little elf on, "Harry and I won't be eating, Winky. We're having lunch in London this afternoon."

The elf had a look of mischief about her, "Misses Gabrielle will eat with Master Harry at Shell Cottage...Master Potter never says 'No' to Winky..." Gabrielle stifled a giggle as the elf shared a wicked smile and left the room with a 'Crack.'

Winky was right. Since Winky had moved into the Cottage, Gabrielle could never remember Harry ever saying 'no' to her. As she finished the last of her croissant, Gabrielle mused that she might learn a lot from the little elf.


	39. TP 39 Courtship

**Chapter 39 – Courtship**

**Submitted: Fri 23 Nov 2012 Previous Sumbission: 21 Nov 2012**

**A/N: Thanks for the kind reviews. I am developing a page on fb for those people that are interested in a more direct dialogue about the stories. This way if people have questions or ideas they can relate more directly. Cowards Folly can be typed into 'find a friend.' This allows a level of separation (I can't see your posts unless you post them to my wall for example. I'll post photos of my inspirations for the story and other thoughts. If others would like to advertise their stories they may. I'll see how it develops but it's in the beginning stages right now.**

Gabrielle was sprawled out on the sofa...spent. Relishing the occasional shiver and smile inducing quiver, she lie as still as she possibly could. The young Veela thought about her sisters e xplanation of what she was experiencing and she decided quietly to herself that she was just fine with lollipops at the moment. She couldn't even fathom what chocolate would be like and that suited her just fine.

Harry, on the contrary, was ready to conquer the world. At first he'd been worried that Gabrielle had unnecessarily burdened herself his problems. After his second apology she made it clear that he should give her some space. "I only need a few moments," she insisted. "Maybe a short nap." He stroked her cheek with his hand but it was his feeling of appreciation for her that made her quiver and grow tingly all over again.

The young wizard was far too happy to be worried for too long. She said she was fine so she was fine. Inspiration overcame him and he pulled out a book of spells that Hermione had urged him to read for months. _**Theory and Practise: Control the Weather**_ had been a regular read of Hermione's and she'd used it to show Harry a few very powerful spells months before. She insisted that he'd need to read the book himself if he wanted a full understanding of the magic but he'd never gotten around to it.

He found a blanket for his guest. He'd slept on this very sofa many times before and he couldn't fathom how she could be comfortable as she was. Her head and back rested on an arm of the sofa while the rest of her was sprawled across the better part of the chair. Normally he would have fussed with any guest who placed their shoes on his furniture but he was in too good of spirits to care today. In fact, his eyes lingered on her other shoe which dangled precariously from a toe...itself dangling just above the floor.

Harry placed the blanket on the beautiful young Veela before moving a foot so he could sit. She began to rustle and he cursed himself for bothering her. Unexpectedly, she picked herself up and changed direction on the couch..tossing both shoes to the floor before resting her head on his nearest leg. He was about to protest but she was soon sleeping soundly as she lie on her side. Curled up in a compact ball, her now bare toes were just peeking out from under the blanket.

At first Harry felt self-conscious. Occasionally his eyes would leave the page and linger toward the door. Other times he'd find himself looking down at the beautiful young witch that was so distractingly close.

Before he knew it, though, Harry was completely enrapt by his book. The ritual that she had once again performed had rid his subconscious of all of its worries and guilt. The result was total focus. He found himself concentrating completely on his reading and what normally seemed like a very deep subject now was quite simple.

He read the large leathery tome quickly. He found that when he read the words they were spoken in his head with the voice of Remus. He imagined Remus describing the concepts, "Think of the weather around you as a large beaker of gas to be manipulated like the gas or liquid in a vial. You can move or transform square miles of clouds if you only have the power and imagination to do so."

Soon Harry was practising the motions in his head. He could actually visualise himself gathering the clouds up with his will and pulling the weather from them. Lighting and wind and rain played like a grand symphony according to each flourish and stroke of his wand. With a dash Harry forced a crack from the sky and shattered a tree. Then, with a whisk, he strafed the ground with hail with sniper-like precision. For once, Harry truly understood what he and Hermione had been experimenting with months before. His imaginary Remus nodded approval.

Likewise, Gabrielle was experiencing an epiphany of her own.

She wasn't standing in any field gathering rain clouds. No. She was with Harry on a secluded beach near the Riviera in France. She was in her favourite blue bikini that brought out her eyes...and the eyes of any wizard that happened to catch a glance of her. Her head still rested on Harry's leg but now they were lying in the warm sun on a soft towel.

The two dreams were so very similar but so very different.

As Harry began to grasp more and more of the spell he was reading about in real life, Gabrielle felt his excitement wash over her. It was like warm water had covered them on the sandy beach. Now they were lying in the shallow waves snogging passionately.

The moment he fully grasped the spell a feeling of absolute satisfaction swept over him. This manifested itself in her dream. Unexpectedly, sparks snapped all around them. These sparks were like electricity except that they popped rather than shocked - like the small bursts of fireworks.

Gabrielle couldn't help but pull her lips away from Harry's tender kisses and open her eyes to watch. The vision was simply too grand to ignore. Undeterred, her Master found her neck and the kisses continued on.

What her sister had said was true. Each pulse and snap of electricity promised an extra layer of joy that made her previous experience like that of a lollipop. The sparks in the air promised of chocolate...but she couldn't get at them...and she wanted them. In fact, even the imagined kisses on her neck that the dreamlike facsimile of Harry was providing created sparks that were just strong enough to make her want to beg for more.

But just as she decided she would ask she felt herself being tugged away. The sun and the sea and the Harry she held firmly in her arms all were gone in a blink. As she opened her eyes, she felt the next best thing. Harry's free hand was resting on her arm and his thumb gently stroked her shoulder as if to say 'you are safe here...you are home.' This subtle gesture caused her to nuzzle his leg which got his immediate attention.

"Did you sleep well?" the young wizard asked as he closed his book.

She nodded appreciatively. She wanted to tell him that she felt the most rested that she had in her entire life – that nothing would make her happy than to rest every morning and every evening in his arms so she could feel the happiness rush from his heart to hers when he woke.

Instead she just lied there, staring into Harry's bespectacled eyes, and wishing for just a small nibble of chocolate.

ZZZZZ

Hermione peeked in. It had only been a day but she was now certain that her instincts were dead on. Ron couldn't stop talking over lunch at the Ministry earlier that day about how Harry was 'transformed.'

There they were. Harry had been reading only to notice Gabrielle wake. The look the two shared when she first opened her eyes was indescribable.

Hermione felt for Gabrielle. The plight of Veelas had only truly come to her attention after she began her work with the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures. She hadn't understood the complexity of the problem that newly freed elves might face until she'd learned about the difficulties that the Veelas had faced as they'd gradually been emancipated from the shackles of servitude. Of course, in the case of Veelas, the motives of their masters had often been much more insidious.

Veelas had been bred more than four thousand years before to serve their masters in a very specific way. Born of Greek descent, there was a legend that these poor creatures had been the cursed descendants of Aphrodite herself. Ironically, Hermione first learned of the Necklace of Harmonia when she'd read of the plight of children of the Goddess of Harmony.

"_Harmonia's children's children were considered among the most beautiful in all of the land of Thebes. A great war was brought upon the land and the victors killed all of the remaining males of the line of Cadmus and Harmonia. This was done as an act of vengeance for his treatment of the indigenous people twenty years before. In his quest to found his Great City of Thebes, King Cadmus had tossed these people from their lands and sent them to live the lives of nomads and wanderers. _

_Claiming victory, the warriors gathered up the granddaughters of Harmonia and groomed them to be concubines for the most sinister Tyrants._

_A great and terrible tyrant by the name of Villainus came upon one of the most beautiful of these captives and was inspired to create a breed of beautiful vixens that would 'rival Aphrodite herself.' Carefully, he gathered the eggs of nymphs and other magical creatures. Rather than use natural breeding methods, he spliced together the very essence of each of these creatures until he had what he thought was the best of them all. He never explained just what this 'essence' was but in his journals he alluded to it being 'at the very base of the fabric of our being on the most singular level.'_

_The Majesty of a Unicorn. The Allure of a Siren. The Grace of Pixie. The Appetite of a Nymph. Veelas, the seed of Aphrodite herself, exhibited all of these. What made him proudest? He'd perfected a process that allowed Veela to reproduce with their companion so that the young daughters only took on a minimum of the traits of their fathers. Villainus claimed as he sold his masterpieces,' The taint of man shall not form a shadow on these perfect creatures. Only enough of their sire's essence shall be incorporated so that the offspring shall not suffer the indignity of inbreeding.'_

_It would be incorrect to call the daughter of a Veela 'half-Veela.' The daughters take on less than one-percent of their father's traits. Maybe a hint of his hair...a hint of his eye-colour. Even less so his desire for freedom. Villainus claimed to splice the very essence of a pup into his Mistresses so that they felt deep sadness when they weren't serving their master. Such is the plight of the Veela even today as she suffers the sad indignity of searching for a Master which she then voluntarily serves the rest of her days._

– _**The Shackles of Servitude: A Study of the Lasting Effects of Slavery on Veela and Their Progeny,** Page 88._

The fact that Gabrielle was so comfortable with her head in Harry's lap convinced Hermione that Villainus had delved as deeply into the sciences as any wizard before. At least the elves had not been physically altered so that they craved servitude. There was no doubt in her mind that, given the proper opportunity, an elf born to freedom would seize the chance to carry his or her entire race forward. Given her two current choices, Hermione felt that Dumbles would be the one to take that important step forward.

ZZZZZ

Ever since Lavender had received the necklace, she had all but turned her back on her gift of sight. She still saw her clients each morning and afternoon at her old cottage in the forest but that was as Hecate. Each afternoon, just before she took the Floo back to 12 Grimmauld Place, she would reach into the drawer that held her salvation. The hardest part was returning the next morning only to return the necklace to the very same drawer.

Those last few weeks in June had been easy. July became increasing more difficult...Seamus lavished so much praise on the way she looked that it actually had the opposite of its intended effect. Seamus had been trying to build her up by telling her how beautiful and graceful she was. It took no time at all for him to forget that her appearance was an illusion. He believed what he wanted to believe because it fit into his vision of their future together.

The result was that each morning she was more and more reluctant to release the kiss of the two serpents that clasped her crutch together. It broke her heart to peer into the looking glass at the hideous beast that much of the day hid just under her perfect skin.

But she did her job. The endless masses that now filed under her mantle one hour at a time brought their coins and their looks of pity that they thought were well hidden. Little did they know that this hunch-backed crone with the ever-bulging eye was the same striking young witch that perused the very best dress shops in Diagon Alley.

It irked her that if she strolled along Diagon Alley in her current state that she'd be subtly pushed by the Aurors toward Knockturn...where the rest of _her kind_ shopped. Here in the forest Hecate was a faithful guide...but in London she'd be looked upon with suspicion and contempt.

Oh yes, her clients lavished her with coins as she told fortunes and gazed into the possibilities of their lives...often to avoid the most superficial worries. Even select Muggles shared in her secret talent though under the strictest of confidences. Bankers and barristers that needed a push in the proper direction...or the perceived push. She was intelligent enough to let them listen to their own advice and become convinced of it. Even so, a few of them made her feel outright dirty as she accepted their pounds and euros.

One bloke offered her a cool million pounds to help him manoeuvre his way to his first billion. She explained she could only give hints and his response was "If you get me my billion then what does it matter how it comes?" She saw where this bloke's avarice was taking him but the idea of being wealthy enough to quit this awful business altogether was temptation enough to let him have his fortune. How could she help if six months later one of his clients would do him in with an axe and feed him to the lions at the London Zoo one visit at a time?

This promise of wealth allowed her to dream of that day in just a few months that she'd soon be done with this whole business. She'd never have to look at her hideous scars and blemishes again. The next step would be to rid herself of this whole nonsense where Seamus had to go home every evening. Lavender knew Hermione wanted her to honour the Curse of Whatever-It-Was-Called which they still used as a backup in case the necklace failed. Part of her felt, though, that Hermione was much too cautious. She and Seamus were working out a way to make the illusion permanent. Then this whole business where she slept alone and couldn't snog and had to wear this awful serpent choker would be done and over with forever.

She'd all but ignored her visions of Harry recently. It wasn't that she was ungrateful for all Harry had done. Quite the contrary, she felt Harry deserved a certain amount of privacy now that they were living under the same roof.

And quite a roof it was. He'd offered the spare room just above the Sitting Room. When he showed it to her he said, "You may stay for as long as you'd like." She had no doubt that 'for as long as you like' could be forever if she wanted it to be.

It was Harry that kept her from going mad. He alone never winced or looked away when she stood in her true form. The wizard with the lightning scar saw her for who she was...imperfect... simultaneously full of cheer and vanity and contempt. He didn't care that she was petty at times or that she had a hump. Harry was the lone person she could be herself in front of.

So, Lavender lived her two lives grudgingly. Every morning she played the part of the Seer Hecate. Afternoons she was the beautiful Lavender Brown who could be found shopping Diagon Alley. Soon, though, she was determined to transform herself into just one.

ZZZZZ

"The two of you haven't so much as snogged?" Ron asked as he searched his soup for treasure. He'd already picked out most of the dumplings but he was certain their must be at least one more.

Harry shook his head.

Hermione seemed unfazed but Ron was beside himself, "How in bloody hell haven't you? Haven't you seen her? Hell, Harry, I'd snog her in an instant if she'd only ask."

This of course earned Ron a well deserved glare from his fiancé. He quickly back-peddled, "She isn't Hermione, but for a Veela she's gorgeous."

The lone witch at the table was unimpressed, "What my soon to be exboyfriend is trying to say is, 'what are you waiting for?'"

Harry remained silent. In an effort to stall, he took a look around the Cauldron for something, anything, a chance to change the subject. Unfortunately, tonight the Cauldron was empty due to a much anticipated match between Puddlemore and Holyhead that was supposed to close out the first half of season for the British and Irish Quidditch League. Puddlemore had overtaken Holyhead for first place in points but even a narrow victory would allow Holyhead to retake the lead just before the end of Spring Play.

Two of Holyhead's Chasers had been out indefinitely with injuries that had taken place during a match with the Tutshill Tornadoes, who this year became the new goons of the league. One writer had gone so far as to dub them _A Seeker and Five Beaters. _Gwenog had been so angry that she challenged two of them to a fist fight in the middle of the match and soundly beat them both. She was promptly suspended for two matches and the Harpies quickly found themselves down three starters.

Holyhead lost both matches but not by much. Ginny had saved them from embarrassment in the first match with a heroic grab of the snitch just as the Montrose Magpies took a 170 point lead. The Harpies never had a chance in the second match as Ginny suffered a concussion in the first hour due to a bludger to the back of the skull. There was a rumour that she had mistakenly asked a healer after the match, "Did Gryffindor win?"

Gwenog returned and they didn't lose another match. Still, George's wife Angela simply wasn't as proficient at filling the goal as their missing Chasers, Beth and Isa. With every match Puddlemore grew closer and closer to Holyhead in points until finally they overtook the Harpies by playing Ron's favourite, the Chudley Cannons, of all teams.

Beating Puddlemore just before the mid-season break would provide Holyhead momentum leading into Competitive Play whether they scored enough points to regain the lead outright or not. Puddlemore had never defeated the Harpies with Ginny as Seeker and this match was as much for the hearts of fans as it was for points. For once in a very long time the Harpies were considered the Cinderella team – a win tonight might mean hundreds or even thousands more young witches wearing green and gold. George had already stocked extra posters anticipating a win. His favourite was one of his sister Ginny diving hard for a snitch and then holding it high in the air in victory.

Desperate to get off of the subject of Gabrielle, Harry was willing to change the subject to anything. He called out to Hannah, "Any word on the match?"

The barmaid coughed. Harry never asked about Quidditch or the Harpies. The Harpies were considered by his mates as taboo any time Harry was near. Hannah'd only dropped over to freshen up drinks and the question nearly caused her to dump her pitcher. Gathering her wits, she answered, "Puddlemore is up 40 to 20. Neville is listening to the wireless in the kitchen."

Harry shook his head, "I was hoping Gwenog would be able to put more pressure on their Chasers. It doesn't look good for the Harpies tonight."

Hermione grew impatient, "Honestly?"

"What?" Hannah was afraid she missed something.

"Harry is so embarrassed to discuss why he and Gabrielle haven't been getting on that he's now making small talk about his ex-girlfriend's Quidditch team!" Hermione shook her head, "Really Harry? It's gotten to that?"

His scar was the only bit of him that hadn't turned pink, "Can't a bloke have a little privacy when it comes to dating? Must you tell everyone everything?"

"Why haven't you?" Hannah asked.

"Why haven't I what?" Harry asked – still stalling.

"Snogged the poor girl senseless!" answered both witches in chorus.

Harry looked from Hermione to Hannah and then to Ron, "How do they do that?"

Ron shrugged, "You are asking me about witches? As it is, I'm due for a row when we get back."

"And then some!" Hermione agreed. She wanted Hannah's opinion, "What would you do if Neville told his mate in front of you that he'd snog another witch if she'd only ask?"

Hannah grinned, "You mean Gabrielle? She popped in just the other day with Fleur. Hermione, she's so hot that _**I**_ might snog her if she were to ask."

The quip got the desired result. Ron sprayed the table with Butterbeer. Harry raised an eyebrow and Ron did his best to keep from choking.

"Stop!" Hermione insisted as she nearly pushed Ron out his chair. "Both of you? I swear." She gave Hannah her most disappointed look, "Thanks. As if the two of them didn't have enough visions in their head. Now I'm going to have to sit through an evening of double entendre and wishful thinking."

"You're welcome," Hannah answered cheerily. Sometimes Hermione could be so dry, "I'm a beer-wench. It's what I do." As she cleared the empties she winked one last time at Harry, "If you can't figure out what to do with her then bring her here and I'll show ye."

"Hannah!" Hermione was positively scandalised. Hannah ignored her and made her way back to the kitchen.

Ron laughed, "She's just winding you up. Seriously, relax."

Hermione hated when Ron was the voice of reason. She turned to Harry, "Are you going to make me ask again? Why haven't you?"

Harry sighed. She'd harass him all night if he didn't say something, "Because of Eliza."

"You still have something for Eliza?" Hermione asked. "Seriously Harry, you need to steer clear of her. That witch has problems that will take a whole panel of healers to divine. Maybe an entire University."

"No," Harry answered. "I mean that she _reminds_ me of Eliza. Think about it. She obsesses over me. She all but mothers me. I'm afraid one morning I'm going to wake up to her staring down at me from a stool while eating a box of crackers."

"It's perfectly all right," Ron explained, "She's gorgeous. When they're gorgeous they are allowed to eat crackers in your bed."

Hermione pushed Ron again...this time more playfully. Smiling, she whined, "Stooop. You are such a pig."

"I let _**you**_ eat crackers in bed," Ron reminded her as he wagged his eyebrows. "What does that say about you?"

She rolled her eyes and turned to Harry, "Look. Gabrielle is different than Eliza in so many ways. First of all, she's a Veela and that's the way she's wired. She feels what you feel and so it only seems like she's worried about you all of the time. She actually only worries when _**you**_ worry. Maybe you should just talk to her and set a few expectations. Let her know what happened with Eliza and let her know what's making you uncomfortable."

"I'd start with the expectations," Ron agreed. "Let her know about that offer by Hannah and if that's still on the table you'd like to..."

Ron never got to finish. A good solid shove on Hermione's part took him out of his chair and onto the floor. As he rubbed his side he asked, "What was that for?"

She stuck her tongue before finishing her Butterbeer.

ZZZZZ

Harry left the Cauldron later that evening bolstered by Hermione's optimism. He didn't want to repeat his mistakes with Eliza or Eve. With Eliza he'd trusted too much. With Eve he hadn't trusted enough.

The difference with Gabrielle was that he didn't feel like he was completely in control of his wits with her. He'd avoided any real physical contact with her because he was afraid he wouldn't know how to stop even if he wanted to. That was the true crux of the problem: she was the first witch he'd met that he knew he didn't have all of his faculties with.

Hermione's blessing made all the difference. Instead of taking the Floo home he walked out the front door of the Cauldron and promptly apparated to the path that led to the Weasley's property. As he crossed the threshold that separated the Weasley's from the rest of the world he felt the wards announce his arrival. Moments later, as he stepped onto the front porch, the door opened.

Despite his evening robes and pyjamas, Bill looked as if he'd expected Harry all along, "Fleur's going to be angry."

"Tell her that Winky cleaned before I got here." He took in the room, "How would she know the difference? It's spotless even when it's dirty."

Bill chuckled, "Isn't that the truth? Is this a social call? And if so, which of my witches would you care to chat up?"

Despite the long scar that ran along Bill's cheek, he had quickly begun to take after his father with his easy going mannerisms and his good nature. Married life had transformed Bill from the mysterious wizard to the good-natured father.

"If it is not too late, I could use a word with Gabrielle."

"Victoire is asleep and Fleur and I were off to bed ourselves but I suspect Gabrielle has already up in her flat nearly half-dressed by now." Bill pointed to a sofa, "Have a seat and I'll see if I can coax her down."

The young wizard took a seat where he was told. As he looked around the Sitting Room for the first time in what seemed like ages he was reminded of an afternoon just more than three years before. The last of his father's best mates had stormed in carrying cigars and good tidings. Cheers had been the order of the day when Remus had announced the birth of his son Teddy.

Harry missed Remus. He had been the best of them all. Remus was the one that taught Harry to look past what he couldn't do and to focus on what he could accomplish. Now slowly Harry was trying to return the favour for Teddy. A three year old Teddy was already better on a broom than his father ever was – even if it was a starter broom. That was due entirely to Harry. If Mrs. Tonks had had anything to do with it, neither of Teddy's feet would ever have left the ground.

Gabrielle rushed in before Harry had time to think on things further, "Harry, what are you doing here so late?"

He stood up abruptly, "If it's too late I can come back in the morning."

The young Veela silently gauged Harry's emotions: Anticipation. Worry. Fear. Determination. Tonight he was a mixed bag.

"No," she answered. "It's obviously important." She led him back to the sofa and they both sat down, "What did you come here so late in the evening to chat about?"

"You and I have seen a lot of each other, haven't we?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"Yes," she agreed. She could feel that he was wanting to get to something but didn't know how to bring it up. Fear was overcoming whatever excitement that had led him here.

Harry balked, "I was wondering if you'd like to bring Victoire over to play with Teddy tomorrow. They seem to get on pretty well together."

"I'd love to!" Gabrielle gushed. "But that isn't the reason you came all the way out here, is it?" She wasn't letting him off that easy.

"Well..." Harry's mind was a web of emotions. All of them were stuck together awkwardly.

She thought she'd shake the tree a little, "Have you come to tell me we can't see each other any more? Is there someone else?"

"No!" Harry insisted. Inwardly Gabrielle exhaled. She'd taken a chance by stating something so awful but she'd hoped it would provoke him to get to what he really wanted to talk about. She took his hand in hers hoping to calm him a little.

It worked. She drew the anticipation right out of him. Soon he'd gathered the courage to speak frankly, "I don't know if you've noticed but when we've gotten close...to getting close...I've pulled back."

Gabrielle wanted so badly to respond with a sarcastic, "Really?" but she resisted the urge. She could feel he was finally trying to open up and she didn't want to discourage him.

And he did open up. He told her everything. Starting with how she reminded him of Eliza because she was able to make him forget all of his troubles when he was around her...he ended with the story of how Eliza had become so obsessed with him that she used Polyjuice Potion to sate her desires. When he told the story of the Polyjuiced Ginny, Gabrielle covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. It obviously hurt his feelings.

"What?" he asked.

She couldn't help but be honest, "That is only the most brilliant use of Polyjuice I have ever heard of. It wouldn't do me one bit of good though."

"Why not?"

Gabrielle thought about it a moment, "All Polyjuice does is change your physical appearance. I would still know it wasn't you." Seeing he didn't understand she explained further, "It's your_** soul**_ that I am attracted to. You could walk in having drank a draught of Everdean's Warts-a-Lot and I wouldn't so much as care one bit."

Harry felt a little better, "But why? What is it about _**me**_?" He'd always wanted to ask this question of witches but never had. Witches were the only thing he felt he was absolutely rubbish at.

"Why?" the Veela considered. "It started with the morning at the lake. You were the first person besides my family that ever did anything for me without some sort of motive. Even then at that young an age, boys at Beauxbatons would shower me with attention. If it weren't for that I'd have never even paid you a second thought."

"But then I began to watch you," she continued. "Not with my eyes..." She couldn't think of how to explain it, "It's that sixth sense that many witches speak of. I could feel your emotions even then and you were so much more complex than other wizards. Did you know that I could feel your yearning from across the castle?"

Harry tilted his head.

She nodded as if she remembered something from way back, "Oh yes."

"Cho?"

"Yes...Cho." She continued to reminisce, "Your emotions were so strong that I watched and watched all year long. Each time I visited the castle I'd lie in my bed after curfew and find you with my mind. That is when I noticed that you could also feel the presence of others."

"That's not entirely true." She could feel the weight added to Harry's shoulders as the memories returned, "I could read only one person's thoughts. Voldemort's. I found out that part of his soul was trapped within me."

He seemed relieved when she brushed the thought away with her hand, "I knew something was off. Even so, by the Third Challenge I adored you."

"Why? Because of what I did for your sister?"

"No, silly..." She looked at him carefully, "You don't remember, do you?"

Harry shook his head.

She stared back in time, "I was still a little girl. You were about to walk into the maze for the third challenge. I stretched as tall as I could so I could see. Somehow you saw me a few rows back and..."

"I didn't think it was fair that you couldn't see your sister during the last challenge."

"Exactly," she said, "And you pulled me out of the crowd and let me sit in the front row next to your mates. But then you told Hermione to make sure that I could see my sister."

"That's all it took? After all this time?" Harry wanted to laugh, "I thought it was because I helped your sister in the maze or something."

"It was twice you did something for _**me**_ only because you cared about _**me**_. The first time you didn't want to see me hurt. The second time you only wanted me to be happy. Do you know how rare that is for a Veela? Do you know how many times a wizard has done something for me in all of my life only because he wanted me to be happy?"

Harry shrugged.

She pecked him on the cheek. His entire face warmed to the touch and he got the cutest lopsided grin.

"There's one other thing," Harry thought out loud. "You understand why Eliza used Polyjuice, don't you?"

"Because she has less self-control than a wood nymph?" she quipped back. This caused them both to laugh.

"Yes," Harry answered with a smile. "I don't know if I am being unrealistic or foolish. I made a promise to myself that I was going to only be with one witch – the witch I married. I want to wait until I'm married before I..."

"...Your reverse psychology will not work on me," Gabrielle quipped.

"No! I'm serious!" he insisted. "Both Ginny and Eliza said they understood but eventually it caused problems."

"Harry," Gabrielle took him by the shoulders, "Apparently you know nothing about Veelas."

"What do you mean?"

"Just kiss me. I'll explain later."

ZZZZZ

Lavender lie there stroking Seamus's hair. She was going to have to send him home soon. It was her least favourite part of every evening.

She lie there trying to think of how to bring it up without the disappointment. She knew better. She knew he would always feel the same disappointment and yearning that she felt when she waved 'good night.'

As she gathered up the courage to deliver the news she felt a sudden sense of finality as if a choice had been made at a fork in a road. She looked inward and found what she was looking for. It was Harry. She filled with both joy and foreboding. If she was right, the time of choices had arrived.

If Harry and his mates chose well these next few months then they'd lead happy lives full of smiling happy children. One wrong choice? She'd rather say good night to Seamus than think about it.


	40. TP 40 Impromptu Meetings

**Chapter 40 – Impromptu Meetings**

**Submitted: Sunday 25 Nov 2012 **

**SPOILER ALERT: Last Submission Friday 23 Nov 2012. I have posted three chapters in the last week. Check previous chapters if you haven't been on in a few days. **

"You can trust me," Gabrielle promised.

"Isn't that what the wizard says to the witch just before he ravishes her?" Harry asked only half-jokingly.

"Ha!" she tweaked him playfully on the nose. "I promise, all we shall do is snog. If anything, it may be you that begs me not to hold back."

"That I've heard before."

Gabrielle and Harry were lying on a blanket in a meadow near Shell Cottage. The Veela had invited him over for lunch. There, in a basket nearby, were jams and honey and all sorts of sweet condiments. She'd also included of her favourite French pastries and a bottle of wine.

The wind was perfect this afternoon. Cool salty air blew in from the Western Sea and picked up speed as it rose over the small dunes that protected the meadows from the sea. Harry lie down on his back with his fingers clasped together behind his head. Gabrielle sat with legs crossed as she ran a finger along his cheek. He closed his eyes to take in the breeze and the attentions of the blonde witch that was now toying with his hair.

"Be patient with me," Gabrielle asked as she ran her fingers against the grain of the whiskers along his sideburns. "this is my first time to do this with someone.." she thought on how to explain, "that I care so much about."

"Wait, I thought all we was going to do was snog." Why did he feel like such a little boy?

"It affects me differently. I told you I'd explain later? Have patience and you'll understand."

She bent down and kissed him lightly on the lips. He'd never bothered to open his eyes so the touch to his lips took him pleasantly by surprised. She jumped a little.

"You see," she explained breathlessly, "I feel what you feel when we are intimate. So when you acted all surprised it took me by surprise."

Harry opened his eyes, "I don't understand."

She rolled an extra blanket up and placed it under a shoulder so she could lie next to him on her side, "Have you ever wondered why Veela were used for..."

The gentleman in Harry felt uncomfortable with her talking so plainly about this, "Companionship?"

She nodded. It struck him that she looked like she was aching to share the greatest secret in the world. "Yes, companionship. You British are so awkward about these things."

"Hermione told me that you were somehow better at it." Really he had no idea. It wasn't something he'd taken the time to listen to. Hermione, he loved her loads, could blather on about so many different subjects that he'd often just let her go on as he thought on his day. He'd never thought in all his time at Hogwarts that he'd had a chance at dating a Veela.

She took her hand and closed his eyes by running her fingers down over his eyelids. He wouldn't argue. The breeze was perfect as it rose over the dunes and the sound of waves far off relaxed him. She toyed with his unruly hair as she neared her lips to his ear to whisper:

"The reason we are so brilliant is that we feel what you feel. At first it's overwhelming. The other day when I performed that ritual to take away your sadness...the joy washed over me. It overwhelmed me so that I was unable to move – I was too happy."

"Very well," Harry answered. "So it pleased you then?"

"Pleased me?" She kissed him tenderly on the lips, "You perhaps pleased me more than you have pleased any witch ever." She kissed him again, "Are you familiar with _Voirs les Anges_?"

With eyes still closed, he shook his head.

"It is a French expression literally translated as "To See Angels." In France, it is another way of saying our wizard made us happy. Am I being clear?"

"So, if we visited a carnival and you enjoyed one of the rides then you might say that you saw Angels?" Harry asked.

"No!" she answered in frustration. "It means..." Only then did she recognise the coy smile. She swatted him playfully, "Stop that."

He pulled her closer, "So you let me read that whole book while you lie there _seeing angels_, as you call it?"

She bit her lip. It was really kind of embarrassing when he said it like that. "Well, by then the angels had come and gone. By then, I only wanted to rest."

"Ron would never let me hear the end of it if he heard any of this."

Gabrielle's expression begged him to explain.

"Ron," Harry laughed, "Goes on and on about how Hermione has him _searching for angels_ with her all night. I think he goes on about it as an excuse to let me know that the two of them are intimiate but when you think about it you can't help but think he might want to rethink where he's looking. Then again, what do I know?"

Both of them shared a look. They were having fun with the turn of words – probably too much fun. Very quickly it became difficult to look one another in the eye. Both of them were being much more forward than they'd normally dared with others. Still, Harry's curiosity got the better of him.

"Why...?" he asked, "Would you want to do all of the other nonsense if it makes you feel so good to just to be near me when I'm happy?"

"That's just it," she explained. "How did you feel the first time you snogged a witch?"

Harry thought about it, "It wasn't really all that wonderful, actually. She began crying in the middle of it all and she got tears all over me. It was really horrible when I think about it."

"She cried?!" Gabrielle tried to hold in her laughter but that only caused her to snort. "Oh, I'm so sorry! You must have had a lot of practice since."

"No!" Harry raised his head in protest, "It wasn't because I was rubbish. It was Cho. Remember the witch we chatted about last night? I was the first bloke she snogged after her boyfriend Cedric was killed by Voldemort. I was with him when it happened, remember? She felt guilty and she missed him."

This time Gabrielle covered her mouth with her hand to hold her laughter in properly. She hadn't realised that Harry had ever got on with Cho. It wasn't funny but it was. "So, you dated Cho _right_ after Cedric...? You must have really fancied her. I suppose if I felt all that yearning from the other side of the castle that..."

"...The entire thing was an utter catastrophe," Harry admitted with a frown. He set his head back down and stared up at the sky sulking.

This wasn't at all where she wanted to go with this. She tried again, "Well, did you ever snog a witch, other than me, that didn't sob all over you?" She wanted to kick herself. That sounded awful.

"Yes," Harry pouted.

"How did it feel?"

He began to lighten up as he thought about that first time. It was with Ginny after that Quidditch match and he felt like he was master of the whole world. The first kiss was like nothing he'd ever felt before, "It was brilliant!"

"Was it better or worse than the snogging you've done since?" She ran her ringers through his hair to relax him. She loved how she could literally feel the tingles in his skull as they slipped down from his scalp to the base of his skull. A rush of desire swept over her as she must have stroked his scalp just right. Again, she bit her lip.

Harry thought about that first time with Ginny, "It was the most fantastic thing ever. I don't think I've ever felt the same with anyone."

Gabrielle felt a tug of warning. She didn't know how but she knew he was thinking of someone else. Rather than change the subject she went straight for it, "You still love her, don't you? It's Ginny, isn't it?"

He didn't know how but he knew that she could feel his love for Ginny. It wouldn't do any good to lie, "Yes. How do you know?"

"Harry, I visited the burrow when the two of you were seeing each other. When you were with her I had to climb over a mountain of adoration just to get your attention. You could ski down it. I've never seen you happier."

"Wait," he propped himself up on a shoulder, "How come you didn't feel all of this feel-good business then?"

"Oh, I still felt warm and fuzzy around you. It's why I was so flirty." She looked embarrassed, "But I hadn't fully developed by then. Think about the differences you felt about witches before and after you went through your changes." She was amazed how easy it was for him to get her off topic, "Anyhow, each time I feel your joy and happiness I'm a little more used to it. Had you kissed me that first day that Hermione brought me over...?" The expression on her face was only half-joking, "I likely would have fainted. I wouldn't have been able to take that much in at one time. Now I can snog you half to death and I get only a little giddy."

Harry wanted to test her theory but first he had one more question, "This all started with you saying that you felt what I felt? What were you getting at with that?"

At first she was silent. She grew deep pink, "We feel whatever our companions feel...good and bad."

"Yes?" Harry really wasn't getting it. He was feeling very thick at the moment.

She tried to guide him along, "You asked me last night why I didn't need to _consummate_ our relationship until marriage?"

"Right, why not?"

Gabrielle shook her head, "Why would we need to consummate anything if I feel what you feel?"

"What?" he asked defensively, "Do you think I don't feel the same things you witches feel? There are times when it's not exactly terrific for us blokes either."

"Harry," she was growing weary of his naivete, "Think. Think hard. If a Veela feels _exactly_ what her companion feels...exactly...the euphoria, everything...why would the two ever have to have..." she mumbled out the words, "intimate relations?"

"I don't understand why witches want to get all worked up and then go through the process of arguing about it in the first place. I enjoy snogging and all...but there is a certain point where it just seems smart to stop."

Gabrielle felt the sudden desire to throttle the young wizard. He just wasn't getting it. She was getting nowhere. She decided to concentrate on why she'd invited him over in the first place. She pulled him closer to her and kissed him tenderly.

"Wait," he said when they came up for air, "You didn't answer the question."

"It doesn't matter," she answered. "When I'm ready I'll show you.

ZZZZZ

Azkaban was always warm and muggy in July. The winds refused to blow over the lonely island and the air would grow stale and heavy on the lungs. For this reason alone, new and old Aurors alike shunned the place during the warm summers. Even the guards that were assigned specifically to the island would take their holidays during the warmest month meaning that the Ministry would be forced to send Aurors to the island to temporarily fill the vacancies.

It was natural that the Ministry would send Aurors that had performed poorly. Very seldom did anyone volunteer for the duty.

One Auror had no such qualms. Early in June, this Auror had requested the assignment. Since her arrival, the prisoners had learned to duck her as carefully as they ducked the remaining dementors.

Some prisoners were more foolish than others. Some had begun to get an overblown idea of their place in the island's heirarchy. They believed they'd grown powerful enough that they could push the guards at Azkaban around.

One such prisoner had been frustrated with his meal earlier that afternoon. Having been shorted a serving of pudding, he shouted at a guard, "Are you so incompetent that you can't get a simple meal right?"

The guard said nothing. Instead he looked away to avoid confrontation. The prisoner was one of the inner circle with Path to Progress and he had the ear of their leader. Despite what the public liked to believe about Azkaban, once most of the dementors had been relieved, the island had suffered multiple instances of violence. Only one guard had been killed but several had been hurt in the riots and prisoners had been killed as well. Only recently had the Ministry been informed that the riots were likely organised with specific goals in mind.

Robards had received a report just the week before that Path to Perfection was using the riots with the dual aim of liquidating competition and recruiting new members.

Eliza looked carefully at the guard, "Are you not going to tell the fool to shut it? You can't let him talk to you like that." She was one of the few that stood up to the prisoners and she'd seemed to even relish in the confrontations.

The guard still refused to say anything to the prisoner. The bloke smiled victoriously and strutted away as the other prisoners in the mess hall looked on.

Eliza bit her tongue. It was not good for guards to argue amongst themselves in front of prisoners. It showed weakness.

Instead she waited until evening. As the sun crept below the horizon and the torches offered the only light on the island, the prisoners prepared for bed. There was no use to stay up...no books or other personal items were allowed in the cells and speaking led to a beating. It was the one time the guards stood their ground.

Once the rustling ended and the silence set in, a distinct, 'clack, clack, clack, clack' of boots on pavement could be heard. It originated from the guard's quarters and moved very deliberately to the prisoners bunks in the South Tower. The prisoners in the southernmost tower had heard these boots before...they were very distinct. Usually they spelt trouble.

As the clacking of boots on steps rose higher and higher up the tower, prisoners bunking on the lower levels began to sigh inwardly in relief. Since June, the clacking had become as ominous as the icy cold feeling that one would get when the dementors themselves would float by.

This time the clacking stopped near the top of the tower...in front of the cell of the argumentative wizard in the mess hall earlier that day. "Hello, Vincent. I understand we shorted you your pudding this afternoon."

Normally very rude and aggressive, Vincent Mahew was much more polite this evening. Eve he knew that a visit from Eliza would not bode well for any prisoner, "Oh no, ma'am. I had my fill of dinner today."

"Rubbish, Victor. I heard you myself. That incompetent guard forgot your pudding. It broke my heart to see you do without. I brought you plenty. We can't have you go hungry, now can we?"

With her wand, the Auror charmed a candle so that it floated alongside her. A small spark left her wand and lit the candle. The light was just bright enough to show off her gorgeous red hair. Victor was also able to make out a five gallon cauldron with a ladle crowning just over the edge...and a wild set of blue eyes fixed directly on him.

She placed the cauldron on the stone floor between them. With her wand, she summoned herself a chair and sat. He looked down at the cauldron and back up at her, confused. She asked, "What is wrong Victor? You can get to eating any time. Don't waste it. And don't worry, I won't tell your mates that you had double rations."

"Ma'am, that's well more than double rations. There is no way that I can eat all of that."

"Oh, but you will...and whatever you don't finish through this end," she pointed at his mouth with her wand, "I'll personally place in your other end."

"Ma'am," Victor was prepared to beg, "Please, there is no way I could finish. My stomach would burst."

She pointed her wand at the cauldron, "So be it. You may want to drop your shorts or there'll be a terrible mess."

"No! No!" He dropped to his knees and picked up the ladle, "I'll do it! I'll do it!"

"All of it. Every bite," she insisted, "and lick the ladle clean when your done."

ZZZZZ

Harry met Ron at the Leaky Cauldron at his mate's request. There were no details. All that he'd received was an owl from the Ministry and a piece of parchment with '_Meet me at Cauldron. -R.'_ As he popped out of the Floo, he dusted himself off and glanced around for his mate.

At the bar nearest to the kitchen, Harry noticed a long lanky body hunched over a stool with a shaggy shot of red hair and robes that were much more wrinkled than usual. There were three others at the bar but the bloke with the shaggy red hair sat a full head taller in his seat than all of them – even when slouched.

Hannah beckoned him over, "Thank Merlin. What happened to Ronnie there?" Hannah asked in a whisper.

Harry shrugged. Ron had been in good spirits when he'd arrived at the Ministry in the morning. It wasn't like Harry's best mate to be completely out of sorts. When he'd left with Marianne to check out a disturbance at Knockturn Alley, Ron had been looking into a report concerning a prisoner's injury at Azkaban.

"Well, find out," Hannah growled. "He's driven off half my customers with his melancholy. He keeps announcing to anyone that will listen that all witches are mental. Then he gets all cryptic and says that because of something some witch did that you are likely never to speak to him again."

Perfect. Things were going well with Gabrielle. He didn't want to think about anyone else at the moment. He certainly didn't want to talk to Ron about witches."

Reluctantly, he ambled over to his mate. Sitting, Harry put his hand on Ron's shoulder, "What are you drinking?"

"Firewhiskey!" Ron announced loudly enough that the entire pub could hear. "Get a glass and you can share my bottle!"

Ron was outright sloppy. Every gesture was bigger. Every word was drawn out. He might have fallen off of his stool had he not placed both elbows firmly on the bar. Harry noticed that the bloke on the other side of his mate was none too happy to have Ron's elbow placed squarely in front of him. Smallish with a square face framed with fluffy white sideburns, the bloke was crimson enough in the cheeks that he'd either spent the better part of the day in the sun or in the Cauldron. When Ron nearly tipped the bloke's drink over with his elbow, the red-faced wizard let out a loud "Harumnph" and stumbled over to a table as far away as he could find.

"What are you doing, mate?" Harry asked. "Aren't you supposed to return to the Ministry after lunch?"

"Hhharry!" Ron's breath could have curled the varnish off the bar, "I'm so sorry Hhharry!"

"Sorry for what, mate?"

"Witches!" Ron announced as much as answered.

"What about witches?" Harry asked reluctantly.

Ron looked like he was trying to gather his thoughts together. Harry doubted he was going to get anything useful from his mate in this state. Even so, Ron turned toward Harry on his stool and leaned heavily on the bar with his left elbow, " I was working on a case t'day at Azka...Azkaban. Did you know Eliza is stationed at Azkaban, Harry?"

Harry did know. Robards had told him discreetly when he'd taken Harry off rotation for prisoner delivery. The Head Auror had explained that Harry was really overqualified now, anyway, for deliveries but with his experience with a broom he'd still be called upon for some of the more high profile cases. No-one that wore the Auror robes was as proficient with a wand while riding on a broom as Harry. This wasn't exactly news to anyone.

Even so, Eliza's father had a private conversation with the Head Auror. It was decided that wherever Eliza happened to be would be a perfectly good place for Harry not to be. There had been rumours in May of her visiting St. Mungo's for personal reasons. There was even a story about how during her visit she'd offered a Healer ten-thousand Galleons for Harry's medical records.

Harry had hoped to keep all of this away from Ron. Anything Ron learned was eventually learned by Hermione as well. Ron had never been able to keep a secret from his mum or his fiancé...not that he said anything. The bugged out eyes and panic stricken face were enough to tell either witch anything they ever needed to know. If they asked the right questions they could eventually get any kind of news out of him just by reading his responses.

"Yes, I'd heard," Harry answered weakly. "Why, did she say something about me? Did she do something?"

"I..." Ron's head bobbed dangerously, "...have no idea. I was working on an investigation where...I think she was a witness or something. I can't remember."

Harry was becoming flustered, "You asked me here. It must have been important. You said to Hannah it might cause a rift between us. Did it concern Eliza somehow?"

"No." Ron answered. His head was still bobbing and his eyes were half-closed, "Hermione dropped in before lunch...she told me..she told me she's pregnant."

"What?" Harry had known now for a good solid month but it was the last thing he'd expected to hear out of Ron's drunken mouth. "Wait, what? This is what you are upset with?"

Ron began balling, "I don't think it's mine!" Harry hated crying. The only thing worse than crying was drunken crying. To top it all, he couldn't quite understand Ron. He'd thought he'd heard him say the baby wasn't his.

Harry studied his mate, "Why do you think it isn't yours? Hermione isn't the type that would step out."

"How could it be mine? We haven't been together in two months. She's always got some sort of excuse. Tired. Sleepy. Tired. Needs a nap..."

"You do realise that all of those are the same excuses with different wording, right? And what do you mean you haven't been together in two months?"

"Not...one...time." Ron pointed a finger in the air to accentuate the 'one.'

Harry was sure Ron was overreacting, "Look, let's get you home and we can sort this out. I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation."

Ron tried to stand up but collapsed right to the floor. He'd obviously had well more firewhiskey than he was accustomed to. Harry took a good look at the bottle, "How much have you had? This bottle is half empty!"

"You're such a pessimist," Ron laughed from the floor. "I had just over half of the whiskey. That makes _me_ an optimist."

"It might have made you into an arse," Harry retorted. "Let's get you up."

Harry pulled out his wand and cast a lighter-than-air charm on his mate. He then threw the drunken redhead over his shoulder to carry him to the Floo. Either the charm or the sudden motion got to Ron's stomach and Harry began to feel a sympathy gag reflex in his throat. Between the sound and the smell Harry was sure he was doomed. He swallowed hard and grabbed for a pinch of Floo Powder.

"Do you expect me to clean that up?" Hannah called out after him.

"You gave him the bottle, Hannah," Harry called back. "Besides, he's going to owe me more. I can feel it start to seep in through my robes."

With that, Harry tossed the powder into the fiery Floo. "Twelve Grimmauld Place," he announced.

ZZZZZ

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Miss MacGreggor?

"What do you want Henry?"

The disgraced wizard sat on his cot. Eliza stood looking on. She'd agreed to meet with the former Auror but only so that she could get the point across that she would not stand for continued disrespect of the guards by his followers. She'd made it a point since her arrival to exact strict, albeit creative, punishments for the prisoners that disrespected the staff or forced her to do extra work.

"That was rather cruel what you did to little ol' Victor, don't you think?"

Eliza placed her hands on her hips, "It was appropriate. He wanted pudding so I gave it to him."

"His stomach exploded. They had to fly him on a cot back to England between two brooms."

"Henry, the bloke wanted bread pudding. What would you expect? Do I seem like the type of witch to ignore a request of one of my prisoners?"

"I certainly doubt that he requested an entire cauldron of pudding." Henry waved the conversation off, "But what's done is done. Eliza, do you think we might be able to put aside our differences?"

Eliza grew bored with the conversation. She began to look over he nails, "You broke the law. You are being punished."

"True. There is that." He looked carefully at Eliza, "I was informed by someone at St. Mungo's that we share a common interest."

"Doubtful," Eliza answered drily, "I'm not too sympathetic to the whole Pure Blood movement. That is more my father's leaning."

"Pssh..." Henry answered. "Not everyone can agree on politics. If they did then we wouldn't need government. No, I mean vengeance. I heard you lost your boyfriend to one of those little _**weasels**_."

Eliza looked up from her nails, "How...?"

"I'm an Auror, love. You don't think I could deduce that he still had something for the little weasel? He breaks up with you abruptly? I hear from my mate over at that love shack that you got dolled up to look like her almost every night leading up to your break-up."

While he didn't have all the details right she had to admit that vengeance on Ginny sounded like a perfect way to make her feel better, "What were you thinking about doing? What problem do _**you**_ have with her?"

"I have no problem with _her_ whatsoever. My problem is with the rest of the self righteous Weasleys...in particular Ron and his father Arthur. Both are Muggle lovers and they made it a point to ruin us. Not a knut to their name and they strut around as little puppets performing for the Minister."

"I don't have a problem with them. My problem is with Ginny." Eliza explained.

"Yes. Ginny. First Weasley witch born in generations? The darling of every one of those blood traitors? Why kill the blokes when I can take her from them instead? It would be much more fun to see the Weasley family torn apart over the death of their precious little girl. Arthur and Ron will spend every Christmas lamenting the day they ever crossed us.

Eliza didn't care about Ron and Arthur. But the idea of that b...witch...dying a very painful death made her giddy. Harry would then know how it felt to have love torn from his grasp – much like she'd had true love torn from her own hands. Once Ginny was gone maybe he'd even think of giving them another chance.

Eliza would listen to what he had to say. Maybe...maybe she'd even help.


	41. TP 41 New Moon Rising

**Chapter 41 – New Moon Rises**

**Submitted: Friday 30 Nov 2012 Last Submission: 25 Nov 2012**

**SPOILER ALERT: This is the third chapter to be submitted this week. Be sure if you haven't been on in a few days to check back for other unread chapters.**

**A/N: Thank you to all that have checked in. I've mapped out the final chapters and it looks like we have six or eight to go. I appreciate the reviews – as you can see, it's kept me motivated to write. **

"You thought I'd choose her?"

Ron was drenched in sweat. The firewhiskey had heated him from within. In one hand he held a large bag of ice and in the other he held a held a pitcher of ice water. Ron really wasn't in any condition to speak but Harry didn't care. He'd helped his mate at the toilet for an hour and then performed a few basic spells that he knew aided with drunkenness. At least now the ruddy fool was able to carry on a conversation.

"How was I supposed to know?" Ron asked. "She comes in and just tells me that she's pregnant and all. I know how close you lot are. If I was you, I'd choose her over me."

"You're a bloody fool, Ron." Harry felt for the bloke but he couldn't help wanting to smack him. When it came down to it, Ron easily lost faith in his mate when it came to Hermione. He shook his head disappointedly, "Now, explain again why you think this baby isn't yours."

"Two months, Harry. Not once in two months. Do you know the last time I've even seen her knickers."

"How long did she say she's been pregnant?" Harry asked. He suspected it'd been longer than two months.

"She didn't say. She popped in for lunch. We were eating. I asked her if she'd like to go out for drinks with Seamus and Lavender. She told me she couldn't bear it any longer – that she had to tell me something. Next thing I know is she's pregnant. I asked her how it happened but she said she'd have to explain later. Told me she felt guilty because I deserved to know and she'd been waiting for the right moment. She even _feels_ guilty, Harry."

"That doesn't exactly sound reassuring," Harry admitted. "All the same, do you think it's a good idea to assume the worst? It's likely been more than two months."

"But she would have told me..."

"Would she?" Harry asked uncertainly. "Maybe there's a reason she hid it - from all of us."

"I can't think of any," Ron answered. Then again, she had seemed secretive for quite a while now. Outright odd. Maybe he was wrong, after all. He hoped so.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

"And he just assumed that she would tell him the day she found out?" Gabrielle asked.

"Exactly," Harry agreed. "but when he found out exactly how long she'd waited to tell him it didn't make him any happier."

"How long?"

"Months," Harry answered. "She wasn't clear but she's due in September or October."

The young Veela was interested in Ron and Hermione's predicament but she wasn't concentrating entirely on the conversation. Instead she was focused on a wager she'd made with her boyfriend. Her hand was placed gently on his leg, "You're sure you don't want to reconsider?"

Harry chuckled to himself. It wasn't like he was unfamiliar with the game. It was typically played by Fifth and Sixth Years as a way of finding out where lines were firmly drawn. It seemed a little immature to him but he was willing to humour her, "Reconsider what? I've already told you. I have no boundaries. You aren't doing anything that hasn't ever been done before."

She moved her hand up an inch or so, "And _**this**_ doesn't bother you?"

"No. Seriously, this is not going to end the way you hope it will."

Gabrielle grew flustered, "Are you going to let me do this or not?" She moved her hand up another inch as a breeze blew in.

Today the meadow was a touch cooler due to the scattered clouds. The breeze blowing in from the sea carried the scent of of ozone and promised a late afternoon rain. The edges of the blanket had slowly inched toward them as they'd rustled around most of the afternoon. Harry worried she might be getting more sun than her fair skin could handle but she had insisted, "England's rays are no match for those of France. A good witch of Southern France knows her way around her protection charms."

Harry rolled his eyes as her hand eased up another half inch, "You can keep this up all you want. You'll reach my throat with that hand of yours before you get so much as a gasp."

"Care to raise the stakes?" the Veela asked mischievously, "I met a splendid spotted owl at Eyelops that all but begged me to bring him home."

"This seems like a very foolish thing to wager over. I told you, barring one thing..." Her look of disappointment forced him to reconsider. He sighed, "Fine, but my prize remains the same."

"You're sure?" She seemed perplexed that he wouldn't also ask for something more. "Well, then, prepare to beg me to stop!"

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Henry eyed Eliza suspiciously, "And how do you know this?"

"Once I ran out of Ginny's hairs I was forced to find someone with access to her. The only blokes willing to role play as Harry...they need a little push to do it right."

"You do realise you have an unhealthy obsession with this boy?"

Eliza grinned, "I can leave Azkaban any time. You?"

The former Auror ignored the dig, "But you are sure? We want to make this a very public thing."

"Why don't you just strike her down at a match?" Eliza asked. "There is nothing as public as that. She's right there in the middle of the pitch. No-one would ever suspect a thing."

Henry sighed, "You obviously know nothing about professional Quidditch. After the Championship in 1764 when a fan cursed the Magpie's star Chaser, there was a call to protect the players from the fans. A spell was perfected making it impossible for a fan to injure any player in any way."

"That would have been useful at Hogwarts during the War," Eliza thought out loud.

"True, but there are far too many limitations on the spell for it to be useful over long periods or an area as sprawling as the Hogwarts grounds." The former Auror reassured her, "All the same, if she will be at that party then I can arrange for someone to attack her and the Minister at the same time. Can you get a message out for me?"

The look of contempt that Eliza flashed was all the answer he needed. She'd feed him information about Ginny but when it came to communicating with his people outside Azkaban he was on his own.

ZZZZZZZZ

Harry lie there in a daze.

In his arms was a very happy looking Veela, "You do realise you owe me an owl?"

"Excuse me?" Harry asked. He was too embarrassed to look down at her just yet, "I upheld

my end of the wager."

"Winners don't make sounds like_ that_," she giggled – still panting. She, too, was still a little out of breath. As much as she'd prepared herself, she'd not expected the rush at the very end.

"I didn't expect you to do THAT!" he answered...the timbre of his voice just a little higher than normal.

"You said anything...except. I took that as _anything_. You didn't exactly stop me."

"Precisely. I won!" he insisted.

"By all accounts I'd say we both won," she replied. "Was that not the most brilliant thing you've ever done?"

"I lay claim to none of that," he answered. "That was all you. Every bit."

Gabrielle sounded hurt, "You didn't enjoy it?"

"Oh...I didn't mean it like that. I...just...I should have been more clear what I meant when I said I wanted to wait. I never expected..."

"...You've never had anyone...?" Gabrielle's disappointment was overcome by her curiosity. "They never...?"

"No. There was snogging. And there was touching. Eliza liked to call it petting. But if they'd ever done _that_ it'd have been much more difficult for me to say no."

The young Veela's smile grew wider, "You mean? We've done something that_ you've_ never done before?" She seemed to take great pride in this.

"Don't look at me like that!" Harry scolded her good naturedly. He tried to urge the colour back out of his cheeks.

Gabrielle lowered her voice in an effort to make it more sultry, "Mmmm, I wonder how many other things we could do this afternoon that you've never done before?"

"I don't think..."

"Quit now," Gabrielle teased, "And I'll have earned myself an owl."

Harry threw up his hands in feigned protest, "All right. All right. I'll persevere. But I'm putting up a time limit. If you can't wrestle a protest out of me within the hour then I win and it'll be you that pays up."

ZZZZZ

Later that afternoon, the young Veela was strolling arm in arm with her happy boyfriend. He seemed rather proud of himself, "Say it again."

"You were right," she answered in the fashion that let anyone who heard know that this was against her will.

"I'm sorry, I don't think that was the whole bit," Harry reminded her. His goofy smile compelled her to pull herself closer and nuzzle up to his arm.

Seeing he wasn't going to let up, she giggled, "You are going to be like this all afternoon, aren't you?"

"If you'd have won the wager, you'd have lorded it over me for exactly how long?" he asked good naturedly.

"The rest of your natural life, of course," she replied. She stuck out her tongue for good measure.

"Then allow me to claim my winnings," he answered.

She tugged on his arm gently, effectively stopping him. Doing so, she turned him so the two were face to face and only a few feet apart. With a wicked grin, she announced loudly enough for anyone in looking distance to hear, "Let it be known that Harry Potter remains the _Lord of his own Realm_! Master Potter saw foreign troops in his fields but he refused to retreat. Instead, he stood firm until the final moment!"

This, of course, caused a few older witches and wizards to ask amongst themselves, "When was the Potter boy granted a title?"

"Anything else?" Gabrielle asked her boyfriend. She had a good mind to twirl.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. As embarrassed as he was, he couldn't help but be impressed with her brashness, "Not exactly what I asked you to say...and not exactly as quietly...you could have simply said it to me."

"I enjoyed it much more my way," she replied devilishly. Having snatched victory out of defeat, she readied herself for her next conquest. "Look, Eyelops!" she pointed. Will you take me to see Spot?"

It was amazing how much energy she had. All afternoon, she was like a pinball bouncing from one side of Diagon Alley to the other. Most witches and wizards would walk along one side of the Alley and then stroll along the other on the way back. Gabrielle, on the other hand, was like a child in that she'd zigzag randomly from shop to shop as the displays in the windows caught her eye. While this exhausted Harry, he couldn't help but be caught up in her thirst for life.

With Harry nearby, she dumped an insane amount of energy that most would call Glamour. Witches were seen along the Alley walloping their husbands and boyfriends on the arm as they stood staring slack-jawed at her.

But by all accounts the afternoon was a success. Harry had a sack-full of treats in one hand for his godson. His other hand held a cage with a tiny little spotted owlet hooting happily out of it.

The only moment of awkwardness came at George's shop when Harry was shopping for treats. Harry tried not to admire the poster of the fetching red headed Seeker diving for the snitch but he simply couldn't help it. For whatever it was worth, Gabrielle didn't seemed terribly upset. In fact, if anything, it seemed like he was the only one who felt a shred of anticipation or worry.

ZZZZZ

Lavender stood in front of the mirror patting her hair. She'd tried charms to hold it in place but over the years she'd learned that the Muggle's had certain sprays that worked just as well and smelled even better. Her favourite, called Lavender Breeze, was perfect.

Most young witches owned a little black dress that they wore those special evenings when they wanted to look their best. Not Lavender. She preferred a rich blue number that brought out her eyes and fit her curves to perfection. The only part of what she wore that brought a frown was the hideous piece of jewellery that hung from her neck. Her hatred didn't just extend to the colour or the fact that it was fashioned into two kissing dragons.

What drove her mad about the piece was the fact that she always had to wear it. It was nearly impossible to build an entire wardrobe around one piece of jewellery. Even worse, because it was such a unique piece, people quickly began to notice. One bloke had even taken to calling her the Dragon Lady. Though she was sure he was doing this to flirt, it still made her want to smack him across the face each time the name crossed his lips. She'd gone so far as to duck him when possible when she visited the Alley. Unfortunately, he worked at one of her favourite clothing shops and unless she intended to give up shopping then she'd have to put up with him on occasion.

Her hope was that tonight was the night. Despite Seamus's protests, she'd insisted on waiting for a new moon as a precaution against failure. She'd gone so far as to check the charts a month before to confirm the date, July 20th, so that Seamus could make sure he had the night off. In the meantime she'd coached Seamus on what to wish for – eternal beauty for the woman he loved. Despite his reservations, she'd reminded him time and again that this would mean they could snog any time he fancied. Seamus reluctantly agreed.

Tonight, the stars had aligned. The moon would be nowhere to be found. Because it was a Friday, they'd get the added bonus of a romantic evening before their snog. "All I need now is Seamus," she said out loud to herself as she plucked an errant eyebrow.

"Who?"

"Seamus," she answered back. "He's due here any time. Wait, who was that?" she asked as she searched her room.

Perched up on the headboard of her bed was a barnyard owl of no real distinction. He was neither big nor small nor colourful at all. In fact, he was the most forgetful little owl she'd ever seen. As she approached the owl it stretched out a claw with a small scrap of parchment fastened to it.

"Thanks?" she asked as she unfastened the parchment.

"Who-Who!" it answered before flying effortlessly from her room.

She couldn't help but be amazed that the owl had gotten in. It wasn't all that difficult, really. Harry had installed an entrance for the owls so that they wouldn't have to wait out in the cold for someone to notice them. They still found it difficult to gain entry to specific rooms but seldom did a resident go long without finding their mail.

She opened the parchment.

_Lava Bear,_

_There is a ruckus at Azkaban and I got asked to stay here while the Aurors go break it up. I'll drop in tomorrow and make it up to you. _

_Love,_

_Seamus_

She crumpled up the parchment and threw it across the room. She was so sick of waiting. Now it would be another month. She wasn't sure how much longer she could do this.

ZZZZZZZZZZ

Eliza stomped across the grounds as spells flew from one side of the island to the other. She'd been enjoying a rather good book about curses on her evening night off when the wards had alerted her of an uprising.

As she crossed the grounds she took in the scene. The South Tower had been taken by the prisoners and at the moment they were firing off an assortment of curses and stunners at the guards who were hiding behind makeshift barriers. At the moment the prisoners had the better of the guards.

"Bloody cowards!" she shouted.

The prisoners saw she was in plain sight for the taking. They promptly fired off an assortment of spells at her. Her wand flashed left and right as she pushed each of the spells away with little trouble. After a few volleys, many of the prisoners stopped casting as they quickly conferred on strategy.

Eliza took this opening to extend her wand out and then pull it back up to herself as if it were a beckoning finger. Instantly, her opponents' feet were pulled out from them and they were dragged roughly to her screaming. By the time they'd reached her, much of their clothing under them had been shredded to rags and their backs and backsides were scraped badly by the rough brick underneath them.

Silently, she disarmed them all – or at least those that still held their wands. With another flourish she had the remainder of the wands that had fallen to the ground.

"_Summone Demente!" _she shouted. The prisoners had been lying there tending their wounds. Some had been crying...others whining...others silently assessing the damage. All of them felt it cool the instant the dementors appeared. She didn't even wait long enough to notice the fear on their faces. Instead, she called out to the wraith-like figures behind her, "If any of them tries to stand or crawl off...kiss him."

By then even the guards had backed off a bit. They watched silently as she stomped into the tower fearlessly. Only when she was out of sight did they disperse the dementors and bind the cowering prisoners so they could be escorted to the infirmary.

Eliza didn't have time for any of that. She had a point to make. The signature 'clack, clack, clack, clack' could be heard as her boots stomped up the steps. Any of the prisoners who'd been fortunate enough to avoid her wand's grasp downstairs had rushed into their cell and already hidden their wand so that it wouldn't be discovered. She didn't care about them. She was focused on the cell at the very top.

"Good evening!" Henry wished her as she opened his cell. He sat on his cot as if he had been waiting half the night to greet her. His cell appeared empty other than his cot. She didn't bother search for a wand though she knew one was hidden somewhere. She'd leave a sweep of the cells to the Captain and his guards. It wasn't as if she was confident they'd anything.

"What did you think you were doing?" Eliza asked angrily.

Henry lowered his voice conspiratorially, as if he were enjoying this, "I needed to create a distraction so I could get a message off the island. It wasn't as if you were any help."

"So the riot was my fault?" Eliza asked between clenched teeth.

"Are we feeling guilty?" Henry asked, quite full of himself. "I'm not sure how things got started but I did see a few prisoners from a rival coven that will need attention downstairs in their cells. One might be beyond help." Once again, Henry and his mates had used a disturbance to impose their will on those who didn't see things their way.

Eliza was grew tired of Henry's arrogance. "Cruciatus!" she hissed.

Henry fell to the ground writhing. She felt neither joy nor sadness as she watched him seize. The only sounds in the cell were her breathing and his whimpers. Unlike other dark wizards, she got no joy out of his pain...it was a necessary tool to teach a needed lesson. All the same, her desire to inflict fiery tortuous pain on her former protege was no less than any wizard before her.

A minute or so later, she finally released him. As he sat propped against his cot – his arms clasped around his knees – she lorded over him, "Let's not forget who's in charge here. You continue to exist because I wish it so. You can have your politics and your pathetic little followers...we all must have our hobbies...but let's not forget that you are still alive at this moment for only one reason. I want Ginny dead."

Henry didn't bother to look up at Eliza. He didn't have the will to speak or even to move. The curse could cause one to wish for death within moments. There was no real way to describe the pain. One might say that it was as if one began to bend your bones with air until they splintered. Another might say that it was like you'd been placed in a very hot oven until your skin was blistered off of your body. Some even claimed that it was like someone stretched all of your muscles until they ripped at the tendons. If they sat in a room together, the group of three of them would finally agree that it felt like all of those things were happening at once. To experience this pain for more than a minute had caused madness in some – the Longbottoms had succumbed to madness after hours of seconds long bursts.

The former Auror still had his wits but lacked will. Eliza took advantage of his silence to drive her final point home, "I will tolerate you and your lot to exist but you will find another way to get your messages out. I promised Robards I'd end these embarrassing episodes and I am a witch of my word. If anyone in this tower so much as looks funny at a guard I shall come up here for you personally. You'd better have your wand ready because I _**will**_ come for blood. Do you understand?"

She didn't bother wait for an answer. She turned on her heel and stomped out. The 'clack, clack, clack, clack' rang through the tower just as it did before. Halfway down she met guards who'd already begun searching the cells for wands. She stopped the Captain and her report could be heard throughout the tower – she made sure of it, "You won't find anything in the cells, Sir. You may wish to go instead upstairs and escort Mr. Dodson to the infirmary. Whoever started all of this looks to have gotten to him pretty good."

Anyone that had been in the upper levels of the tower knew better. While he hadn't screamed, they'd heard the curse and the whimpers. Anyone with a pulse could feel the uncomfortable twist in their gut as they imagined the pain he'd suffered.

The question now was what to do next. Were they going to let her take charge? Could they even stand up to her if they wanted to?


	42. TP 42 Let the Dominoes Fall

**Chapter 42 – Let the Dominoes Fall**

**Submitted: Thursday 6 Dec 2012 Last Submission 30 Nov 2012**

**A/N: For those that don't know, if you click "Follow Story," an email will be sent to you the moment I submit a new story. You can then follow the link in the email to the brand new chapter. Voila! No need to bookmark a chapter and check daily for updates! **

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For her valiant efforts in stopping the riots, Eliza was granted a commendation. It was never declared outright, but the Head of Department for Magical Law Enforcement intimated during an inspection of the island that the Captain of the Guard should defer to her on matters of security.

There had been no more riots or disturbances. Henry Dodson, released from the infirmary after two weeks of care and rest, made it clear to his cohorts that it served their purposes to be model citizens until the strike on Ginny Weasley. Hopefully his messenger had reached England safely and preparations were already being made. He had assigned a specific wizard to the task and Henry was certain no-one would suspect him. In fact, he was sure the attack on Ginny would be so sudden and so devastating that it would be spoken about for years.

Actually, Henry believed that Ginny would only be a footnote on this glorious occasion – it was the assassination of the Minister that would send shock waves throughout the wizard world. Already, a successor friendly to the Path was being groomed to replace him.

For now Henry would succumb to Eliza's wishes. Once the new Minister was named, he'd settle things with her.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Gabrielle eyed him hungrily, "Will you let me do it again?"

"I'm not sure that it's possible," Harry answered.

The past two weeks had passed quickly. Nary a moment had the two of them spent apart, it seemed. If he wasn't with Gabrielle then he was ridding the wizard world of riff raff with Marianne. Fortunately, Madeline's holiday had caused Marianne to spend more time at home. Seldom would the clock strike 5:01before Marianne had spent her Floo Powder and disappeared in a flash of green.

Harry happily took the extra minute or two to file the reports and then he too had announced his next destination to the nearest Ministry Floo, "Shell Cottage!"

Rarely did Harry call 12 Grimmauld Place home of late. Since that first afternoon in the meadow he'd been reluctant to take her back to his place. Was it the memories of Eliza that spooked him? Was it guilt? Technically he had never broken the letter of his promise to himself but he knew he'd ignored his oath's intent and there was no getting around that...still, Gabrielle made such things easy to ignore.

He finally understood what Gabrielle meant when she said that she was different than other witches. The more happy he was - the more happy she was. The same was true when he was relaxed. What had surprised him most was that afternoon on the meadow when they lie there together with their silly grins after she had taken their little game way further than he expected. She had obviously enjoyed what she had done as much as he had. It wasn't five minutes later that she announced, "We should do that again!"

Ever since, she'd spent her time with him searching for new ways to please him...and therefore herself. It was as if she had a manual or something that she read while he was at the Ministry. Each afternoon he'd arrive at the Cottage and she'd peel him away from the Weasleys like a hungry lion would a Wildebeest. Soon the two of them would be panting and seeing stars...or 'Angels' as she fancied saying.

It didn't take long for him to realise that she had an appetite that was well beyond his own. One particular Monday morning he drug himself to the breakfast table to find Bill enjoying the paper and a plate eggs, "You look awful, Harry!"

"It's not all that bad," Harry lied. "I could use more sleep, though."

Bill chuckled, "You need to put your foot down."

"What?"

"Harry, this is her first time to bond with someone...anyone." Bill thought to himself, "Well, I don't know what a Veela would call it but that's about the beginning and end to it. Her appetite right now is insatiable. If you don't pace yourself you'll end up catatonic in a bed at St. Mungo's with a steady regimen of dreamless sleep potions.

Gabrielle interrupted them both. Sporting a french-cut nightie that barely covered her hips, she teased, "Harry...you slipped out without so much as a good-bye."

The young wizard apologised, "I'm sorry, Love. I wasn't thinking. I'm going to have a bite of bacon before I head out to the Ministry."

The young Veela twirled a few golden locks around a finger and playfully bit her pouting lip, "Oh..."

As she pouted, the young Veela tugged on the edges of her nightie. Bill broke out into a smirk as he watched Harry melt before him. Gabrielle knew she had him on the line. She played the part of the damsel perfectly...batting her eyelashes as she raised to the tips of her toes and tugging even harder on her nightie, "I'll miss you..." She knew what she was doing. The harder she pulled on the edges of her gown, the more taut it became around her perfect frame.

Knowing she had both wizard's full attention, she asked suggestively, "Before you leave will you at least come back upstairs so I can send you off properly?" She didn't bother to wait for an answer. Instead, she smiled knowingly as she ran barefoot up the stairs.

Bill coughed. Harry took in a deep breath. As the creaks from the staircase became fainter and fainter, Harry dared to ask, "What do I do, Bill?"

"Are you mad?" the eldest Weasley asked incredulously. "You praise the fates for your good fortune. Then you go upstairs and make her happy."

"But _I'm _not doing anything..." Harry complained. "We snog for a bit and then I just lie there while she..."

"Keep doing _**that**_," Bill smirked. "Do it morning, do it noon and then do a lot more of it at night. With a Veela, it's the key to a good marriage."

"You're kidding me." Harry leaned in a little and whispered, "She won't grow tired of it?"

Bill laughed, "Not tired of it. As I mentioned before, if you don't put your foot down right now she'll kill you. Right now it's all she thinks about. For now, you need to remind her on occasion that some sleep is necessary. Eventually, though, she will only want it when you do. All the same..." Bill smiled, "I'd appreciate it if you'd go back up there before you leave. Otherwise she'll drive Fleur insane by noon. When Fleur's unhappy..."

"...Everyone's unhappy," Harry answered. Bill often repeated this rule and Harry knew the eldest Weasley boy believed in it wholeheartedly.

Harry did as told. Once he was done with his bacon he reluctantly made his way up the flight of stairs. On one hand, it wasn't exactly a death march. On the other, he didn't exactly like Bill shoving him upstairs in order to keep the peace with Fleur.

He didn't have much time to sulk. The moment he reached Gabrielle's door, it opened and he was promptly yanked inside with a giggle.

Moments later he decided he _would_ have to put his foot down...just not right now.

ZZZZZZZ

"You must understand, Ron," Hermione was dead serious, "You cannot tell your sister about me being pregnant. If she finds out, some very bad things are likely to happen."

"What? Why would she hurt the baby?"

"I'm not sure that she would." She rubbed her belly, "It could be anything."

"Bollocks!" Ron blurted out. He was still cross with his girlfriend for not telling him sooner that she was pregnant, "Ginny would never do anything to hurt you or me. Just because she has spent the past few years concentrating on Quidditch doesn't mean she's turned on the family.. Do you know how difficult any sport is to play professionally?"

"It's not that," Hermione insisted. "I've been told that if Ginny finds out then it will not end well."

"Who told you that? Miss Trelawney? Do you know how many ways she killed off Harry before the end of our Fourth Year?"

Hermione frowned, "Not Trelawney."

"Firenze?"

"No."

"Who then?" Ron was quickly losing patience.

Then again, Hermione's patience wasn't much better. Little did Ron know but Hermione was secretly fantasizing about turning him into a bunny. At least she could pet a bunny. She wanted to box Ron's ears in.

She sighed, "It's none of your concern who told me. All that matters is that she's reliable." Hermione wasn't about to explain that it was Lavender. Ron already felt uncomfortable with her living just a few floors below them. The fact that she and Hermione got on so well already made him a bit sickish – he imagined the two of them sipping tea late into the night while he was at the Ministry – comparing notes on his past and present snogging skills.

Ron crossed his arms in a pout. He likely would have never considered contacting Ginny at all but when Hermione brought it up it sounded brilliant. He hadn't written his sister in ages and it felt right to let her know. It would give him good reason to get back in contact with her. Ginny had always been the one that he had done everything with as a child. Despite those few years at Hogwarts, when one of them had news they shared it with the other first.

Hermione could all but read his mind, "You must promise me. Please Ron. This was the reason I kept it so long to myself."

She felt like she had wounded him. With his shaggy ginger mop thrown over his eyes, he looked like a large golden retriever that'd been told not to bark or chase birds. Ron was Ron, though, and he eventually came around, "Fine, I won't tell her."

"Or anyone else," Hermione insisted.

"I've already told Harry," Ron mumbled.

"Harry's fine," she reassured him, "Harry's left hand wouldn't tell the right if it held a Galleon."

"How do you know?" Ron asked. "You honestly trust Harry over my sist..."

"Did Harry every told you what my mum did to him the last time we went dancing in Australia?" Hermione asked. "No? Well then you should trust your mate more. He's more loyal than you'll ever know."

"I know..." Ron answered sullenly. Too often he'd doubted his mate over the years and each time it'd bitten him in the arse.

"Please don't tell anyone in your family?" begged Hermione.

"Aye!" Ron growled. "I promise!"

"I love you!" she answered happily as she rewarded him with a peck on the cheek.

It didn't matter how long they'd been together or how often she did it. A kiss of any kind from Hermione was sure to turn his ears red. Then again, it never failed to bring a smile either.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Lavender tried hard to look forward into the future. She wasn't looking for Harry or Hermione or a client. Tonight she was dealing cards as she normally would – except she was now dealing for herself.

She knew she couldn't tell her own future. Firenze had pounded the three rules of Prophecy into her head years before:

The further out in the future one looked...the better the opportunity to change.

The more the Seer shared with her subject, the greater the chance they'd choose a more tragic alternative.

For inexplicable reasons, a shroud hid the futures of even the best Seers and their closest blood relatives. At best, what the Seer would see was blurry or fuzzy. Only seldom could a Seer divine anything useful from looking into their own futures.

There was a fourth rule that she had learned on her own. "You can't cross a bridge twice," she'd often tell her clients. What she meant was that certain futures were inevitable once a certain threshold was crossed. An example of this was Harry.

Since he'd ended his relationship with Eliza, Lavender couldn't divine his fortune without drawing the Death card. Someone was going to die...that much she was sure about. There were many possibilities of who and when based on his and Hermione's future choices. A few weeks before, Hermione had crossed a bridge of her own. Lavender had warned her for months not to share information about her pregnancy. Unfortunately, she knew there was only a chance in a thousand that Hermione would be able to overcome the temptation.

When Hermione had told Ron about her condition the dominoes had begin to fall. Each domino was an act by one person and then another that would ultimately result in a spectacular tragic display. Literally dozens of lives hung in the balance based on the decision of one person. He was like a switchman at a rail yard.

If he flipped the switch one way, then he'd sacrifice many of those he loved most. If he flipped the switch the other way then he'd save those he loved most but lose a valuable piece of his soul. Even worse, he'd suffer premature death.

There was little Lavender could do. She knew that if she was forthright about the whole mess, Lavender would herself sign a death warrant for the whole lot of them.

Unable to do little more than watch the story unfold before her, she decided to push on rule number three a bit. With any luck, she'd find out what she needed to do to get this ruddy necklace off her shoulders for once and for good.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Wilda Griffiths was a perfect pawn in Path to Perfection's plans. Though she wasn't a Pure Blood witch by the Path's standards, her blood was pure enough. Besides, she and the organisation held a common goal. She only needed a nudge.

The former Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies had signed with Puddlemore United after Ginny's first season. She'd been convinced by Puddlemore's dashing Chaser, Evan Fawlks, to make the move. Evan had seduced the poor witch at the instruction of his coach and manager. She left behind her closest mates with little warning and all of them considered her to be a turncoat and traitor. In fact, Glynnis Griffiths, her mum and the Harpies' manager, hadn't spoken to her since.

She was devastated at the beginning of her first season with Puddlemore when Evan quickly dumped her for her former team mate Ginny. Wilda had always been a plain witch but there was no denying her talent handling the quaffle. Having estranged herself from her mum and her mates, she found herself with no-one to confide in and instead of getting over the loss she let the insult of it all fester within.

This didn't keep her from succeeding on the pitch. Each match she played she made it a point to show England that she was among the best Chasers in the BIQL. She'd been a major part of the push that put Puddlemore ahead of Holyhead in points early in the season. In fact, she'd overshadowed Evan as the driving force for the team...who responded with rumours of her '_lying like a dead fish in the sack_' out of jealousy.

When she read those hurtful words she was determined to get him back any way she could. Her real anger was directed at Ginny, though. Wilda was certain that if it weren't for Ginny Weasley and that ruddy red mop of hers, then she and Evan would still be dating and they'd be considered the ultimate one-two duo in all of Quidditch. Instead, the two Chasers ignored each other in the locker room and they fought for touches as the entire club suffered.

It was a Pure Blood fan of Wilda who'd learned of her hatred for Ginny. When the Path was rounded up and Henry began one of his many rants about his hatred for the Weasleys, it had been this fan, sitting at lunch in the new Azkaban Commons, who'd told Henry about Wilda's mutual hatred of the clan of gingers.

When Henry began fantasizing about ways to get vengeance on his ginger haired nemesis, one of Ron's schoolmates pointed out that Ron loved no-one more than his sister. The wizard pointed out, "It made Ron sick even to know that his best mate Harry was snogging her." That remark and the information about Wilda caused Henry to hatch a plan and he quickly had one of his closest mates befriend the Puddlemore Chaser with hopes to groom her for a very nasty deed.

Originally it had been discussed that she could attack the Holyhead Seeker during a match. They'd researched poisons and all sorts of other devices that would harm the beloved Harpy. Unfortunately, it was soon discovered that the same charms that protected Ginny from fan interference also protected the Harpy from devices activated by opponents. The only way for an opponent to injure her during a match was by actual physical contact or by a Bludger. However much she detested Ginny, Wilda was unwilling to physically accost her during a match.

But when it was learned that Ginny would be at the Extravaganza in late August? Henry immediately got in contact with those few members left free. Ginny wouldn't have the same protections at the Extravaganza. Not only could Wilda get close enough to offer a devastating strike on Ginny, she'd have a reasonable chance of performing the act without suspicion. The Path would make sure the blow was made in such a fashion that it was obvious they'd masterminded it.

Even better? Ginny's death would offer the perfect distraction that'd open Minister Shacklebolt up for a swift strike of his own. A successor had already been put in place by the Ministry so that there'd be no threat of a power vacuum. The Deputy Minister was ready to step in any time and would even be at the party to rally Wizard England the moment Shacklebolt fell. Little did anyone know that this champion of Wizard England was also a powerful member of Path to Perfection. Soon, the tide would turn for the organisation that had fought tirelessly for a Pure England. Path to Perfection would soon have a champion of their own.

Henry's plan had come together so easily. He now only had to sit on his cot in wait. Like a tiger, he eyed his prey quietly from afar and prepared for the perfect moment to strike.


	43. TP 43 From All Angles

**Chapter 43 - From All Angles**

**Submitted: Mon 17 Dec 2012 Last Submission:6 Dec 2012**

Held the last Saturday in August, the Holiday Extravaganza was the place to be. Signalling an end to the holiday, the Extravaganza was billed as a day of wonder followed by an evening of music and frivolity. All witches and wizards were invited and returning Hogwarts students who'd completed their Third Year were allowed to attend without adult supervision...many brought dates.

The event was held at the stadium that'd played host to the 1994 World Quidditch Cup. As before, a portkey was required for entry. The stadium itself held a series of concerts throughout the day – tickets were not cheap. Outside the stadium was a midway that included food, displays, carnival-type games and vendors peddling their wares.

What separated the Extravaganza from Balls of past were the many stages and demonstrations that showed off the best of what wizardry currently had to offer. With the Renaissance at Diagon Alley came a new era of wizardry in which wizards and witches began to push the boundaries of spell and product design. Strangely enough, this had begun with Fred and George and their Wizarding Wheezes. Other witches and wizards became inspired and there was now a boom in the development of everything from clothing to spells to enchantment.

Seeing this transformation before their eyes, the Minister and his Entertainment Coordinator thought that a party that focused on the theme of 'Moving Forward' would be perfect. The demonstrations and stages were a grand success.

One of the most popular tents held a fashion show featuring the up and coming fashion house, Needlings. The proud owner, Victoria Mistre, served as emcee.

"As you can see, this year, robes are giving way to trousers and tops. The modern wizard enjoys ample sleeves with room for his wand. Short sleeves? Try these new jeans with a hidden pocket right here across the thigh."

"Who can blame a witch for trying?"asked Victoria as she transitioned to the next model. "Notice those tight jeans. Gone are the days when modern witches hide themselves underneath clunky old cloaks or wampy old robes. Notice those lines. With that blouse, Miss Heidi Knorr will have no need of her wand to mesmerise her wizard. Even so, again, notice hidden pockets here...and here."

Victoria's line depended heavily on charms that Hermione Granger had perfected to create large spaces with small footprints. George had referred the designer to Hermione when she lamented that wands were the one impediment to making tighter fitting clothes more mainstream. Nearly all of Victoria's jeans and trousers included at least one pocket with exceptional carrying capacity. Hermione had also altered her charms so that specific sized pockets, say one made for a wand, could be seen only by the wearer. No longer did witches or wizards feel the uncomfortable tug on their sleeves when they moved around as they did with their former forearm holsters. The interior of Victoria's holsters actually resided in another dimension so the witch couldn't feel her wand until it was drawn. Hermione received a hefty sum licensing the spells to Victoria and several other fashion houses were currently in negotiations with the witch for her to customize similar charms for their lines of clothing.

But the Needlings show was not the only popular act at the Extravaganza. On two makeshift pitches, two pro clubs were issuing challenges to common wizards to field teams. The resulting matches were often humorous. The Cannons had nearly lost to a group of scrubs earlier in the day. Already the crowd was proposing all manner of combinations of private citizens that might take the hapless club in a match. More than once Harry's name had come up in the conversations. Other proposals included Charlie Weasley and a now ninety year old former Chaser named Arthur Bagwell. "I saw Arthur on a broom just last week," claimed one of the crowd, "and he'd still outfly those duffers."

All through the day, witches and wizards were entertained and amazed. Most everyone called the afternoon a success.

That night the stadium was transformed into a giant dance hall and an orchestra floated overhead as England's most well known wizards changed into their best robes. Hogwarts students were given the opportunity to mingle with the power brokers of the wizard world – but all had been coached by parents that tonight was not the night to ask for autographs. Many a student spent the evening gawking at a hero from childhood. Little did they know that their heroes spent just as much time gawking at their own heroes of their own.

The stadium itself resembled a huge snowglobe from the outside despite the warm weather. On the inside, white flakes fell from the sky only to disappear just as they hit the ground. More than one Hogwarts student held out a tongue hoping to be rewarded with the icy cool tingle of a snowflake. Even those that hated to dance felt compelled to sway to the beat of the orchestra above.

Madeline had been one of those students who'd taken to catching snowflakes. Her mum looked at her crossly from across the way but Madeline didn't care. Soon she'd be a woman but until then she'd enjoy those last few perks of childhood. "Besides," she thought to herself, "if more adults were to act like children then there'd be a lot less sadness in the world."

The room was full of celebrities but a specific set immediately drew Madeline's interest. Madeline was a fan of Quidditch, so when she saw Isa and Ginny walking arm in arm with Gwenog Jones she nearly came unglued. Madeline idolised Ginny from the time she'd seen her on Harry's arm at Hogwarts. By extension, when Ginny joined the Harpies, Madeline instantly became one of their biggest fans. Even now, the most prominent object on Madeline's wall was a poster of Ginny diving madly for a snitch before displaying triumphantly to the crowd.

The young witch wanted so badly to walk over and say hello to her heroes but she was overtaken by shyness. Instead, she watched helplessly as the merry band of witches walked right on by.

She wasn't the only one watching. Sitting alone at one of the tables that surrounded the immense dance floor was a plain witch in plain robes that Madeline recognised as Wilda Griffiths. The young Gryffindor couldn't help but wonder why the former Harpy glared at her former teammates. As far as she could remember it'd been Wilda that left the Harpies despite their begging her to stay. Wilda had often been seen by Harpy fans as a turncoat to the club. Angelina hadn't been nearly the Chaser that Wilda had been and when Isa had been injured earlier in the year, the club suffered horribly.

Madeline smiled thankfully as her mum handed her a cup of steaming hot tea. She took in the sheer magnitude of the pitch she was standing on as she welcomed her first sip. The dance floor stretched the length of the pitch and was covered in highly polished wood. There were hundreds dancing presently and even with it's sheer size, the floor was nearly full.

Harry could be seen far up toward the front where she noticed that he was positioned as Guest of Honour between his date and the Minister. All three were sitting at a table on a stage with many different Directors and Department Heads for the Ministry. It'd been a long time since Harry and the Minister had been seen together publicly but Harry'd recently donated a hefty sum to the school.

_**Witch Weekly**_ announced earlier in the week that Harry had set aside an endowment to fund several projects at Hogwarts. The paper quoted Harry as saying, _"Fred and George Weasley showed me that with just a little gold and lot of desire they could transform an entire Alley. We were denied the greatness of Fred's epic talents but with this endowment I hope to provide England with at least a few more like him."_

No-one knew for sure what the quote meant but there were rumours swirling around that next year their would be two more elective courses provided for students Third Year and up and that two new professors would be added to the staff. There was also a rumour of an award he was funding in the name of Fred Weasley but she wasn't sure of the specifics.

This caused Madeline to turn to her mum, "Is Harry staying on as your partner?"

Marianne paused for a moment, "What makes you ask that?"

"I saw in the paper," she pointed at Shacklebolt who was saying something close to Harry's ear, "that the Minister plans to nominate Harry to the Board at Hogwarts."

"Pshhh," Marianne laughed, "That wouldn't take much of his time. The Board only meets occasionally."

"What do they do?" Madeline asked her mum.

"Well," Marianne answered...she paused to admire one of her favourite actors as he walked by, "I'm sorry, dear. The Board? They give the Headmistress guidance for the direction of the school. They solicit donations. They make long term decisions and occasionally they must pick a new Headmaster."

"Oh," the young witch looked disappointed. While she understood much of what her mum had said, it seemed rather boring. She decided to ask her mum another question, "Is it true that Harry turned down the position of Professor for Defence Against Dark Arts?"

Marianne smiled over a sip of tea, "Yes. They ask each year and he declines every time. I don't see why they keep asking, the bloke that holds the position is doing a bang up job."

Madeline nearly reached her tip-toes as she squealed out, "But he'd be brilliant, mum!" The young witch still carried a slight fancy for Harry. She didn't fancy him like Ginny had...but she couldn't help but get sickeningly giddy around him when he was near.

Her mum had taken to winding her up about her bouts of puppy love. When her mum would catch her daughter eyeing him dreamily, she'd say, "I can ask him out for you if you'd like."

Something caught Madeline's attention. While watching Harry and the Minister, a small part of her mind was stewing over something odd she'd caught out of the corner of her eye. Wilda had been watching the trio of Harpies with what could only be described as absolute hatred. The witch had now gotten up and lugged what looked like a large trophy behind her. The Puddlemore Chaser watched carefully to her left and her right as if nervous that someone would notice her.

Madeline looked away, "What?"

Marianne repeated herself, "I said, 'Harry loves to teach but he doesn't feel he'd do the position justice.' What are you looking at, dear?"

"Over there," Madeline pointed, "Very odd. That's Wilda Griffiths. I get the feeling she is up to something."

Marianne glanced over. She'd learned early on that her daughter's instincts were usually spot on, "Don't look directly at her. You'll spook her."

Auror Mason and her daughter pretended not to watch.

Wilda ended up in the middle of the three Harpies. Setting the trophy down, the plainly dressed witch again looked nervously around as she spoke briefly to her former teammates. She bowed and scurried away.

The three Harpies shared a look of confusion. They seemed to be discussing the object that had been left behind. Marianne and Madeline both had an eerie foreboding feeling as the witches could be seen reading the Cup on the top of the trophy. As one of them reached out to touch the cup, Marianne shouted, "Don't!"

Madeline stood frozen as her mum sprinted toward the three Harpies. Her wand already out, Marianne cast the first spell she could think of as she hoped beyond hope that the witches would heed her warning. It was too late.

Gwenog had intended to tilt the cup upwards so she could read the names etched into it. She jumped when Marianne shouted and a mere finger brushed the trophy. Instantly her hand seared with fiery pain and she was nearly knocked unconscious as a shockwave shoved her backwards to the ground. She and her two mates and anyone within fifty yards of the Cup were thrown several feet backwards.

Marianne's shield had surrounded the trophy and held back the silvery shards that erupted from the cup like shrapnel. Had she not thought ahead, the shards would have certainly torn the three Harpies to shreds. What Marianne was not able to hold back was the tremendous concussion and loud bang as the Cup exploded. The concussion had been the force that had sent the shards reeling but, unlike the shards, it was not magic. Fortunately, this force did little more than to blow everyone backwards uncomfortably on their bums and ruin everyone's hearing within the stadium for a good ten minutes or so.

Madeline watched from her back as her mum picked herself up and rushed to Gwenog. The Harpies Beater was holding a stump of a hand and crying out in pain...but no-one could hear her. If Madeline's ears were any indication, all anyone could hear was ringing. Fortunately, her mum looked like she was only scratched from the fall. Ginny and Isa had also been blown back several feet but both of them were already picking themselves up and running to their mate. Ginny soon conjured up bandages and Isa wrapped her arms around the silently bawling Beater.

Suddenly, Madeline's attention was swept away from her mum. Back up on the stage, flashes of red and green began to fly. Madeline watched the back and forth of the action on the stage and only occasionally was distracted by her mum's heroics just yards away. As the final moments of drama unwound she became light headed and collapsed to the floor. The madness of it all...it was too much for her. She just sat there thinking on all the killing she had witnessed.

Eventually Madeline was shaken out of her stupor by her mum. She couldn't hear her but she read her mum's lips, "Are you all right?"

The young witch nodded but was unsure. Noticing that the stadium had emptied and now even Ginny and Isa were gone, she looked to her mum for guidance. The Auror pointed to an exit.

ZZZZZZZ

Just as deaf as her daughter, Marianne hadn't even noticed the scene that had occurred on stage. Having sent the injured to St. Mungo's with a cadre of healers, she planned to check in at the Ministry and see what, if anything, needed to be done. At the very least, she'd need to report what she'd witnessed.

After dropping her daughter at the house with her husband, Marianne did her best to fix her hearing with a series of spells. Nothing did the trick. She hoped someone at the Ministry would be able to help – otherwise she'd have to drop by St. Mungo's on the way home. Apparently her daughter's hearing recovered with minimal effort but the younger witch hadn't been nearly as close to the blast as her mum.

What had happened was gruesome. Marianne tried to shake the sight out of her head. She didn't want to think about the young Beater's injuries until it was time to go over the details with her superior. Robards was going to want to know everything. She'd likely have to provide a memory as a record as she was the only Auror close enough to witness everything.

As she exited the Floo to the Ministry she noticed that there were witches and wizards scurrying around as if it were early morning on a Monday. Most of the traffic was headed toward the Department for Magical Law Enforcement but there were all sorts of other offices that'd been called in as well. She noticed the Director for the Department of Press Relations heading to an elevator. Several Mugwumps stood in a circle in their fine robes speaking deliberately amongst themselves but Marianne could still hear nothing.

As she exited the elevator to the Aurors' offices on the second floor, she was disturbed. Every Auror seemed to be on hand and many were rushing back and forth as if information was still pouring in. Seldom had she ever seen activity like this – not since just before Scrimgeur's death during the Great War.

An Auror named Davies seemed to notice her first. He rushed up to her and began asking questions so fast that she couldn't understand him. His lips moved much too fast.

She gestured with her hands to her ears and tried to shout so he could hear her, "**I CAN'T HEAR!** **There was a blast and** **I CANT HEAR ANYTHING BUT RINGING**!"

She must have shouted loudly enough because he took a step back. All the same, he nodded and pulled over a bloke dressed in one of the traditional white healers' gowns. The healer pulled out his wand and placed it near her left ear and began an incantation that she couldn't hear over the ringing. He seemed to concentrate for a few seconds before nodding knowingly and tapping both of her ears while mouthing what could have been a silent 'Repara Tympana.'

"Did that work?" the healer asked kindly.

"**YES, THAT'S PERFECT**," Marianne shouted. She blushed when she realised how loud she'd been.

"Very well," the healer ginned. "Visit St. Mungo's in a few days for a follow up. My name is Walden. You may ask for me."

Not willing to risk additional embarrassment, Marianne this time merely nodded and mouthed a silent thank you.

Davies didn't allow her much time to sit idle, "Ewan's addressing everyone in five minutes. He's been named the interim Head until a permanent replacement is found."

Marianne's jaw dropped, "What happened?"

"You didn't see?" Davies asked incredulously, "I thought you were there. There was an attack on the Minister. It was awful."

ZZZZZZZZZ

Madeline had witnessed the entire thing. Her attention had been swept away from her mum. Back up on the stage, flashes of red and green were flying.

When the blast occurred, Shacklebolt insisted his security entourage aid in what he was sure was an attack on someone in the audience. He, Harry and Gabrielle were left with the Deputy Minister and several Department Heads. The Deputy Minister had deftly stepped out of the line of fire and watched silently as several of the Department Heads had turned on the Minister, those Heads loyal to the Minister and Harry. Harry's first action was to shove Gabrielle roughly off the stage. Before she landed on the ground, Harry had drawn his wand and had disarmed one of the would-be assassins.

Robards came to their aid but was quickly struck down by a green streak meant for the Minister. The fighting was furious and soon many on both sides were either lying unconscious or dead. Harry was soon the only one standing between the Minister and defeat. He threw out multiple flashes of red as quickly as he could. The security entourage rushed back but Madeline was sure it was too late.

All of this happened in ringing silence...everyone was deaf...which was why it'd taken the entourage, and the crowd, so long to see what was happening. Their ears still rang from the blast. Madeline watched in horror as Harry was struck by a red flash and thrown to the ground unconscious. Three remaining wizards now duelled the Minister at once as the crowd's eyes followed the entourage to the stage and they finally began realise what was happening.

Just as it looked like the Minister would be struck down, a witch from the crowd quickly blasted the three remaining opponents from behind. With as impressive a move as Madeline had ever seen, the red-headed witch in Aurors' robes dragged the would-be assassins to the ground with a whisk of her wand. As soon as the wild-haired witch had the flailing wizards within range, her wand erupted in flame. She cooked the three of them, and several others that lie unconscious, to death.

Madeline couldn't hear what was said - her ears were still ringing - but she imagined the Minister was asking the Auror why she'd used such brutal force on her opponents. The redheaded witch pointed to her ears as if to say, "I can't hear you" and then turned viciously on the audience as if to ask, "is there anyone else out there looking for trouble?" There was none to be found.

Finally, Madeline's attention returned to her mum and the Harpies that had started the entire affair. Already, several in the audience had disapparated out or left for the Portkey rally points. Most witches and wizards had no appetite for any sort of violence. Healers had been rallied and Gwenog was transported to St. Mungo's. Marianne looked like she was trying to use basic sign language to ask Ginny and Isa if they were all right. All were scraped up badly but looked like they'd be fine with a few simple healing spells.

The young witch returned her attention to the stage. They'd successfully gotten Harry to his feet but he still looked like a punch drunk fighter. Madeline imagined he'd get a lot of grief by the papers for being knocked unconscious during the duel but if it wasn't for him, she imagined the Minister would be dead. That's when it struck her, the Minister was now bowed sadly over the body of a bloke she'd only met a few times before. Robards had never been overly friendly toward her but mum had always respected him. She'd never seen anyone actually killed before tonight...the closest had been the dead body in the Chamber of Secrets her First Year. She'd had dreams of the cold dead eyes staring back up at her for over a year after that terrible experience.

Today she'd seen nearly a dozen killed – all on stage. It had been surreal...no sound, no drama, most everyone facing away from the action while trying to figure out what had happened over here. The victims merely fell like flies as silent wands flashed rainbows of colours in each direction. If it wasn't for the sad looks on the faces of the witches and wizards now on stage she could have pretended the victims had merely been knocked unconscious. Well, except for the poor blokes who'd been set afire by the witch. That had been truly hideous.

And that's when it happened. Realising the gravity of it all - Gwenog's hand, Robard's death, the many wizards burnt alive - Madeline's knees gave way. She didn't even feel herself hit the ground. She just sat there in ringing silence with her arms wrapped around her knees as she took it all in. If a healer would have taken a look at her they would have recognised that she was in shock and sent her straight to St. Mungo's. Instead, minutes later, her mum came over and gathered her up before they headed home.

Madeline suffered through awful dreams that evening. Like a film set on a loop, she'd relive the haunting images over and over again that night as she tossed in her sleep. The next morning she woke with a fever. Her bed was drenched in sweat.

ZZZZZZZZ

Ewan stood before them all. He was not prepared for this. The Minister had nearly been assassinated by high level officials within the Ministry and the bloke who would normally have headed the investigation was dead. He, being the Assistant to the Head Auror, was now responsible for answering everything from how the Minister had been left unprotected to who was actually responsible.

He was just as in the dark as anyone. The attack had nearly gone off perfectly except for the unanticipated invitation of Harry by the Minister as Guest of Honour. Harry had given a sizeable sum to Hogwarts and the Minister had insisted that he be there by his side. The Minister had intended on ambushing Harry with an appointment to the school's Board in his speech at the Ball so that the young wizard had little recourse but to accept. Instead, it was the Minister who'd been ambushed by much more nefarious forces.

The other wildcard had been Eliza. How she knew to turn toward the Minister when everyone else was fighting to see where the deafening noise had come from, Ewan had no idea. What was even more disturbing was that in the process of protecting the Minister, she'd killed all of the assassins. There was no way of finding out from them who was responsible or how the plan had been carried out. Ewan now had to piece together the memories of all of the Aurors and hopefully get enough information to give a report by morning.

The Scot looked out amongst his people, "As many of you know, Robards was struck down while protecting the Minister this evening. I've been named Interim Head Auror in his place and am responsible for picking up the pieces. As I see it, we have three tasks that must be accomplished by morning and none of us is getting any sleep until we are certain we've done the job right.

"The first order," Ewan pointed to a table of empty vials, "Is to recover enough memories to get a clear picture of what happened. I'd like it if each of you that attended would please take a vial and mark it with your name. Place your memory of the event from just before the blast to when you left the pitch. Place it on the table over there and we will have a team sort through them."

"The second order," Ewan seemed to look for a specific Auror, "Is to search the scene for anything that might provide insight to what happened. I have a team led by Ron that will head there in a matter of moments. No-one else is to visit the scene other than Ron and his team...anyone else shall be taken into custody. Understood?"

There seemed to be some grumbling amongst the Aurors about Ron's qualifications to lead such a team. Ewan quieted them down with silence and a stern eye. When he had control he explained, "While it's true that Ron has less experience than some of you, the Director of the MLE has asked for him personally because he has shown unquestioned loyalty to the Minister and Harry Potter for several years. Also, Ron has a brilliant mind for tactics and considering this was an organised attack he might catch something one of us might not."

He paused to make sure there was no more grumbling. Satisfied, he finished with his final charge, "Finally, we must make it known that the Minister is alive and well and that we fully support him. We do not need chaos breaking out or foolishness arising from uncertainty. We will take visible positions around the most public parts of Wizard England and we will show that we are calm and in control. If anyone asks, tell them that the Minister is shaken, but well, and that the attempt on his life was met with death by all. Be honest and let them know of Robards' passing. Once the morning papers are released we will begin a rotation of eight hour shifts so that you can all get some shut eye."

Again he waited for grumbling and he got it. He hushed them all, "We'll draw lots to see who will work the first shift. Because it will be back-to-back to tonight's shift, it will offer double wages. Volunteer if you'd like to save your neighbour the hassle. That is all."

Ewan hoped he'd portrayed confidence. He certainly didn't feel it. He noticed that Marianne was the first to volunteer for the double duty. Ewan knew she needed the extra wages and wished there was more he could do to help her out. It only took a moment, though, for him to forget all about Marianne's troubles. Already, the first memories of what happened were filtered and he was looking through the eyes of a trained Auror who had turned his head to face the deafening blast that had started everything.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Harry sat with the Minister in silence. The Healers had tried many different spells help with the headaches but in the end it was simple ice to the base of the skull that did the trick. At least he wasn't lying there at St. Mungo's with Madam Pomfrey going on about how he needed to take better care of himself.

It was the Minister that dared speak first, "I told you that I needed you. This is why you must take a spot on the Board. What I really need is for you to consider the spot as my Deputy Minister."

"You already have a Deputy," Harry reminded him. His voice was a little more terse than normal. "And I shouldn't have to sit on some ruddy Board. There are plenty on the Board that are loyal to you."

"But I don't know who I can bloody trust, Harry. Two of those blokes that had wands on us were wizards I believed in. I appointed half of them to their positions."

"How do you know you can trust _**me**_?" Harry countered. "I could Imperious you in your sleep and have you appoint me Director for the Department for Ballywags and Bimples."

"Firstly," Shacklebolt answered, "There is no such Department. Secondly, I'm certain I can trust you precisely because you are the only wizard that doesn't want my job. Thirdly, I'd welcome the initiative. Since the end of the War it's all I can do to get you out of your bloody bed and check on the occasional ruckus. Do you know how much easier my life would be if you were to show up on time to your office every day? Even with you working only half the mandatory hours, you and Mrs. Mason solve the same number of cases as nearly two teams of Aurors."

Harry sighed, "I have to be dead honest. Gabrielle," the Veela showed up with a service for tea as if on cue, "She and I are seriously considering moving to Greece for a time. A mate of mine has found me a flat and I have inquired into purchasing it. It wouldn't be full time but during the winter months we'd fancy some time away."

"Too many bad memories?" Shacklebolt asked meaningfully.

Gabrielle was still piddling around the Sitting Room arranging things so she could listen. She was still a little sore from Harry's rough treatment. The Veela knew he'd done it to save her. The moment he shoved her she felt his fear that he and Minister wouldn't make it out of the duel alive.

"Mostly no," Harry finally answered. "But here there are too many could-have-beens and should-have-beens." He gestured with his eyes to his girlfriend's back, "I want to focus on what I have."

Shacklebolt nodded knowingly, "I understand. Just please consider the position." Changing the subject, he asked, "How long are we going to have to wait here?"

Harry frowned, "Until we know who is involved. Ewan is worried that there might be members of Path to Perfection lying in wait to finish the job if you're found. I'm not so sure...most of those that attacked us were not Pure Bloods."

"But you think I'm safe here?" Shacklebolt asked.

"Bill's place is as safe as we'll get for now. My place is like a social club – people come and go as they please. Technically it's unplottable...for the four or so wizards in all of England that aren't welcome. The Burrow is the same way. Bill's? I'm lucky he lets _**me**_ visit."

Gabrielle smiled at Harry's remark because of how true it was. Bill was the ultimate believer in security. Other than Harry, only blood relatives had access to the Cottage.

"So we just wait?" the Minister asked.

"You were once an Auror. What do you think?" Harry asked back.

"Argh," Shacklebolt groaned. "I hate being Minister."

"That's no way to convince me to follow in your footsteps," Harry reminded him.

ZZZZZZZZZZ

Eliza's memory was sickening. Ewan watched as a dozen wizards erupted in flames. He couldn't help but be impressed at how much she'd advanced as a witch in just the past few months but he was equally horrified by her open disdain for life. She'd have to be disciplined for her reckless use of magic - the wizards she killed were no longer a threat. In the meantime, he was going to ask that she meet with a healer to judge her suitability as an Auror going forward. There was a distinct possibility she might have lost her last bit of grasp on reality.

For now he'd allow her to return to Azkaban. She was obviously effective there by the looks of the reports Robards had filed. He needed every other available Auror here for the moment.

Vials of memories had been sent by Shacklebolt and Harry as well. The more he watched the attacks from different angles, the more he believed that at least four of the Department Heads had been victims of the Imperious Curse. They seemed to jerk around during the battle as if they were fighting against their will and weren't completely under the control of their Masters. This made the heavy odds against Shacklebolt and those loyal to him to be much more manageable. The battle began with Shacklbolt, Harry, Robards, and three loyal Department Heads surprised by a dozen opponents.

Harry had shown really well considering. The Minister only had limited opportunities because Harry had made it a point to act as a wall. Robards, on the other hand, had literally jumped in between the killing curse and the Minister. He'd rate a hero's funeral for sure. The remainder of those fighting alongside the Minister were rubbish...those attacking likely knew this. All the same, they provided live bodies to slow down the assassins.

What disturbed Ewan most was why the Deputy had not joined in the fighting. He just seemed to quietly blend into the shadows. While the Deputy Minister had never been considered a brave man he never had struck Ewan as a coward. There just really were no good angles to see the bloke. All of the witnesses were concentrating on the fighting so that he was almost a shadow from the beginning.

There were still large patches of the duel that he couldn't quite grasp based on the angles. Based on these blank spots and the action that had occurred on the dance floor, he still had several questions. He felt like there were others out there that had orchestrated everything but he had no way of knowing exactly who or why.

Marianne's memories had been invaluable in the capture of Wilda Griffiths. Wilda had even provided the name of the wizard that had convinced her to lay the trap on her former teammates. Freely she admitted that her primary target had been Ginny all along. Her confession had filled two vials and was a disturbing mix of jealousy and anger.

But by Sunday evening, Ewan still didn't understand why the attacks had happened. What had motivated the attacks? Who was behind them? How was Wilda's attack linked to the one on the stage? Was this an isolated incident or was this the beginning of something much bigger?

As Ewan pondered on each of these questions, he was distracted by a 'crack..crack...crack.' It wasn't a knock or an apparition. One of his Aurors stood at his office door cracking knuckle after knuckle nervously. He was ready to throw up his hands, "What?! I'm trying to think! Aren't you supposed to be at at home resting?"

From the Auror's robes came an unmarked vial, "I think I found something."

**A/N: It took a little time to put this one together. I'm mostly curious about what you think about the chapter's structure, Does the chapter flow? Did it keep your attention? Did the action seem inevitable or predictable based on therevious chapter? I'm very interested to know what you think.**


	44. TP 44 The Stars Align

**Chapter 44 – The Stars Align**

**Submitted: Mon 31 Dec 2012 **

**A/N: This is a very long chapter. I'd have broken it up but I felt that it was important to fit all of it into one sitting. I know many of you hope this unravels so that Harry will finally meet his destiny with Ginny. Just as many of you would prefer to see Harry chuck Ginny for Gabrielle. There are exactly five more chapters to the end and two of them are already written. Chapter 48 is aptly named "The Ship Sails." I hope you will join me for the journey.**

Ewan turned to Marianne, "Your daughter has an amazing eye."

"She comes by it honestly," Marianne admitted proudly. While Madeline had witnessed the attacks from yards away, her mother and Auror Duncan watched the action clearly from up on stage. Flashes of green and red, and even a few blues, passed right through them as the action carried on around them.

The newly appointed Head Auror was impressed at how much more clear Madeline's memory was than the others he'd seen. Many of the other accounts were blemished with shadows and dark spots because the other witnesses had been so fixated either on what they were trying to accomplish or what they wanted to see. Many ignored details even when the action was right before them. There were no blemishes in Madeline's memory – she'd been a detached observer throughout the entire affair and like her mum she had an eye for detail.

Ewan's head was on a swivel as he took in the action. Marianne instead concentrated on a single portion of the stage. As a purple zigzag left a Department Head's wand Marianne shouted, "Stop!"

"What was that for?" Ewan asked. "You don't have to shout."

"Sorry," Marianne answered. She pointed to the Deputy Minister and without a word the memory reversed a few seconds in time and restarted. "Watch."

It was unmistakeable. Deputy Minister Benedict's lips silently mouthed the word 'Imperious' as he reset a curse that one of the Deputies had broken. It had been hidden from the other memories because Benedict had remained in the shadows away from the action. Madeline just happened by chance to catch it. Ewan shook his head, "Bugger."

This was huge. Ewan now had his proof that at least one of the Deputies had been Imperioused and he had one of the culprits. More important, he now had a motive for why the Minister had been attacked.

Full of joy, he turned to Marianne and tried to hug the witch. Instead, his arms passed right through her. "Lovely," he dead-panned. Ruddy Pensieve.

**ZZZZZ**

"Before we begin," Head Auror Ewan Duncan announced, "I am required to inform you that you will stand before the Council for one count of Treason, one count of Conspiracy and a count of the deliberate use of an Unforgivable Curse. Due to the Ministry Trust Act of 1999, I have broad powers in how I may interrogate you including but not limited to the use of Veritaserum."

"And what," Deputy Minister Benedict asked, "evidence do you have that I participated in any treasonous activity, Ewan?"

"You have no reason to assume any familiarity between me and you. You may refer to me as Auror Duncan," Ewan instructed. "As it turns out, we have a witness. She saw you perform the Imperious Curse during the assassination attempt on the Minister on Saturday night."

The Deputy let out a hearty laugh, "Of course, I was trying to get control of one of the Minister's attackers. By all accounts I'd say I succeeded."

"Then you won't mind volunteering the use of this to clear you," Ewan said more than asked. He was referring to the vial of Veritaserum that he'd placed on the table between them. "You might as well. As a Ministry employee, the Act states that it is your obligation to remove any doubt if there is eyewitness evidence against you."

"Then I resign."

"Too late." Ewan aimed his wand at the Deputy and within seconds the Veritaserum was consumed. Soon, Ewan had the names and locations of every Path to Perfection member remaining. He also had the names of the eleven who'd Imperioused the Minister's Deputies and forced them to attack the Minister. Each had been hidden in the crowd. In one fell swoop, Ewan and Marianne had removed the threat to the Minister and solved the mystery behind the attacks.

**ZZZZZ**

Finding the remaining members was quite simple. With Henry Dodson at Azkaban, the organisation had been run sloppily and secrecy had not been a priority. There was no compartmentalization of the organisation as there had been before. The Deputy knew everything from where the members were hiding to passwords to ways past the wards.

Ron had taken personal satisfaction in rounding each member up. As it was, half of the plot had been to kill his sister in a devastatingly brutal fashion. He'd been given the honour of leading the raids. It was as if the Aurors were thumbing their collective noses at Path to Perfection and saying "Not only did you fail, but the very bloke you meant to injure got the better of you."

Even better, Ron was given permission to share with his family the entire affair. His mum and dad sat with the rest of the family as he told the story of the capture of one particularly angry member, "As I bound the bloke he glared at me and said, 'we were _this_ close to killing your slag of a sister."

"Please tell me you gave him a good kick in the ribs for me," George grumbled.

Percy blinked, "Ron can't do that. He's an Auror."

George shook his head, "Like I don't know that." He turned back to Ron, "If I send you to the Ministry with one of our Splatastic Blaster Fireworks, do you think you can stick it up his arse?"

"I told you..." Percy started.

"...He knows." Ron answered for his brother. He turned, "I wish I could, George, but rules are the rules."

"Revenge won't make what they did any better and it'd only make you worse off," Molly answered sagely.

Ron arched an eyebrow at his mum, "And if I happened to let you into his holding cell? Perhaps he had a wand?"

The gleam in her eye was unmistakeable, "Then I'd just be defending myself, now wouldn't I?"

**ZZZZZ**

Ron took advantage of clear skies to ponder the stars. As usual, Ursa Major wrestled with his smaller brother to the north. Ron wondered how long these great bears had guided travellers. It wasn't too long ago that he'd pointed the two constellations to his younger sister for the first time. It was just a month before he left for Hogwarts.

He had explained to his sister,"If you go wandering around after I leave for school and you get turned around then look for those stars up there."

"They're bears?" a young Ginny asked uncertainly.

"Well..." Ron thought aloud, "Dad once told me that if I stripped a few of the stars away then they looked like measuring cups. See? Part of one cup's handle points to a star in another cups handle?"

"Oh, yes!" his smaller sister pointed with a grin, "I see it!"

"That is the _North_ Star," Ron responded proudly, "It is the one star that never moves in the sky. Daddy once told me that he could always use it to find home on a clear night. I've used it a few times myself when I've gotten lost."

The image of the much younger Ginny sitting by him, thoroughly impressed, made Ron miss her even more. Ron glanced sadly at a gnarly old tree...

"You miss her, don't you?"

Ron glanced back at his mum, "I'll see her when I get home."

"Not Hermione," Molly answered. "Your sister. The two of you used to climb that old tree after we all went to sleep and stay up there half the night telling ghost stories and sharing secrets."

Ron glanced quizzically at his mum, "How did you...?"

"Mums see lots more than you will ever know," she answered. "I knew you two sneaked out. It was harmless and it allowed the two of you to bond. George had Fred, Charlie had Bill and Percy had his books. They had similar rituals."

"What else do you know about?" Ron asked, concerned.

"Then? Or now?"

Ron blushed, "Either?"

"I know you've been hiding something from me for a few weeks now and your aching to tell me. I know you keep glancing up at that tree so it's something you want to tell your sister. I also know that Hermione didn't show up for her own birthday dinner and she very rarely misses family events. If I didn't know better I'd say you and Hermione are either on the rocks or that she's pregnant."

Ron sputtered, "What? Why would you even say that? What would make you think she's pregnant?" The full moon rested high in the sky and provided just enough light to show off his red ears. "She's only gained a little weight is all. She doesn't feel comfortable talking...really, why would you even think of such a thing?"

Molly was trying to hold in her laughter, "Dear, I was only making a joke. I know you'd never have a baby without getting married first. Your dad and I raised you..." She tilted her head slightly as she gave her son a good look, "...We raised you right."

Ron was such a lousy liar. It was really one of his most redeeming qualities. The guilt was simply too much for him.

The breeze stopped. Without it the air became stuffy and almost oppressive. Ron returned his attention to the stars hoping not to give his thoughts away.

Molly broke the silence, "There's Virgo. That reminds me, why didn't Harry have a party this year? He hasn't been here in so long..."

Ron was thankful for something else to talk about, "He's spending all of his time at Bill's. Until yesterday, he and the Minister were in hiding."

The mum escaped out of Molly. Her hands found her hips, "And what is Harry doing at your brother's? _Bill_ hasn't said anything to me about it."

Just like that Ron was again treading dangerous waters, "He's been visiting..."

"..._**Fleur's**_ sister?" Molly's ears now matched Ron's,

Ron gulped, "I try to stay out of Harry's business."

"That's how it happens, you know?" Molly searched for Saturn, "He'll begin diddling around with that witch. Then she'llget pregnant. Then they'll end up married. And he won't be able to marry..."

Molly stopped before she said it out loud. Instead she redirected her frustrations on her son, "You'd do well to be a better example. If you and Hermione continue on like you have then there's a chance she'd get pregnant and...well, you'll feel forced to marry Hermione while she carries a little bump. It's humiliating."

Ron's look of horror forced her to stop. Her instincts told her she'd missed some very important detail. She thought back on their conversation in an attempt to figure out what it was.

Inspiration came to her, "Dear, have you and Hermione set a date yet? Hermione hasn't spoken to me about arrangements in a few months now."

"That's on hold," he answered.

"So the two of you _have_ hit a rough patch then?"

"No, _**muuum**_!" Ron whined. "We are _fine_."

"Then why would she miss her own birthday party?" Molly asked. She thought she knew the answer but she just wanted this last bit of confirmation. "She's not feeling well? But she's not ill?"

"Exactly," Ron answered emphatically.

"And you are just out here staring out at the stars."

His sigh was all she needed.

If she'd said it once then she'd said it a thousand times. Men really were very simple creatures. Very seldom did a wizard take time to contemplate anything. They contemplated death because it meant loss. They contemplated birth because it meant responsibility. She was shocked she hadn't recognised it sooner.

Molly silently fumed. She was going to kill her son when he finally shared the news. Not only was he keeping the fact that she'd be a grandmother from her – a terrible injustice by any standard – but he and his girlfriend were going to have a child out of wedlock. She had a good mind to throttle him right there and now.

Anger quickly gave way to curiosity. Molly knew Hermione was extremely practical. Hermione was well aware that Molly would be very angry if they were to have a child out of wedlock – and even angrier if it were kept from her. They must have some good reason. As her son searched the stars, she searched her son's face for a reason good enough for him to keep such an important secret.

Unfortunately, tonight such a search was fruitless. She decided it might be easier to drop in on Hermione and get the details from her, "Son, I think I'm going to go on inside. The party's beginning to wind down."

Without provocation, Ron turned and hugged her, "I love you, mum." He then kissed her on the top of her head before returning to his stars.

Rarely did the boys take the time to show Molly affection. When they did, it would come so unexpectedly that for hours Molly would walk around the Burrow with a healthy grin on her face. If they only knew how easily even a small gesture of affection would change her mood they'd do it more often. Tonight was no different. She skipped inside, deciding she might let her son live after all.

**ZZZZZ**

Lavender had prepared for this evening for well over a month. It had actually been two months if she wished to split hairs. The month before had been ruined by a riot at Azkaban.

So much planning had gone into when, where and even how. She had to be sure he'd answer correctly. Even when they were in the throws of passion she would ask, "What will you wish for?"

"Beauty! Eternal Beauty!" he'd pant back.

He only made the mistake of answering back with a sarcastic, "Loads of Money!" once. That evening she cooled off immediately and he spent the rest of the night apologising...and sulking.

"What's wrong?" she asked sarcastically after letting his pout simmer for a good while.

"I," Seamus blushed, "was thinking. We stopped rather abruptly. I was hoping we could finish..."

"Finish what?" she asked crossly. "Counting our 'Loads of Money?'"

"Yes, erm, I was just having a little fun," Seamus explained.

"Of course you were," she answered. "Therefore, you can go home and think on that "Loads of Money!" comment for a little while. You can come back tomorrow when I'm feeling a little more charitable."

"But..."

Lavender hissed at her boyfriend, "But what? You can take care of _that_ load on your own too. Honestly, I'm in no mood to be of any help."

She imagined that if he was a puppy he'd have whimpered all the way home. She had little sympathy for him. He obviously had no idea how important this was to her.

"Out," she commanded. And that was the end of it.

She wasn't going to have anyone make fun of her situation and in his current condition, he was certain to understand how serious she was. She wasn't the type of witch who was going to mix messages.

Obviously he learned from his mistake. No matter how distracted she made him from that point going forward, he always answered back with "Beauty! Eternal Beauty!" when she asked.

So, tonight was the night.

She spared no detail to assure that this was the perfect evening. She and Kreacher had prepared the perfect meal downstairs with all of Seamus's favourites. She'd prepared a special soundtrack for the evening and had the music funnelled in the room for ambience. Candles lit up the bath and awaited them.

Tonight would be a special night.

**ZZZZZ**

Gabrielle lie there confused.

When she kissed Harry's lips she felt an odd sensation. She'd ignored it at first because he'd always come home with his mind full of whatever he'd done that day. Usually it would only take a few moments to clear his mind before he'd throw all of that rubbish aside and concentrate on her. By now, he was normally fully into the moment and he would just lie back and enjoy whatever she had planned. It was a routine that had worked well for both of them for well over a month now.

Tonight was different. Tonight his mind was focused on a singular problem and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't get his mind off of it.

As she kissed his lips she tried to guess what he was thinking.

Was it boredom? No, it definitely wasn't boredom. Distracted? No, she could sense that his mind was on her. In fact, he was thinking rather intently about her. Curious?

She couldn't bear it any longer, "What is on your mind?"

Harry wasn't one to blush very often, "Nothing."

"As if," Gabrielle pushed her hair out of her face with her fingers, "I swear. You have a hundred questions racing through your head at once. I can't concentrate."

Her boyfriend tried to act nonchalant, "I don't know what you mean."

The Veela suppressed a snigger. He'd lost the ability to keep secrets from her. Something was absolutely eating him up inside. She tried to coax it out of him, "Harry, is there something you want to ask me?"

"No," he answered reluctantly. "It's just..."

"Yes?" she could feel the question just on the edge of his tongue. He was really having a difficult time with this.

He finally came out with it, "You spend every waking hour making me happy. You do that trance thing. Dinner is usually something I've been craving _all_ afternoon. You do things that would make most witches blush when we get up here. There's that thing you do with your..."

"...Mmmm...yeah, you like that," she answered with a certain amount of satisfaction.

"Well...I'm curious," Harry asked with a bashful look. Bashful was her favourite of all of his expressions. He usually got that way when he really wanted something. He bit his lip, "...Isn't there anything I can do to make you feel like I do?"

"Harry..." she had tried to convince him this very thing countless times, "You already do. In some cases I get more satisfaction out of what we do than you do."

"But what about...?" he didn't even really know how to ask. After all this time he still didn't know what witches liked and what they just pretended to like. He knew they pretended sometimes just to make him happy."

Gabrielle rolled off of him and over on her side. She rested her head on a hand as she eyed him curiously. She'd had some of classmates paw on her at Beauxbatons but none of them really seemed to care what she liked. Most were more interested in being able to claim they'd felt up a Veela than in actually worrying about how she felt about it.

Harry, despite being years older, was much less sophisticated when it came to this sort of thing. One thing they had in common, though, was that she had no real clue about her own body. All this time, for more than a month, she'd so focused on him that neither had any reason to worry about anything else.

She considered aloud, "...I don't know. It never really crossed my mind. I mean, there have been times when I..." she stopped abruptly. Certain things were too embarrassing to share.

He brushed his hand across her cheek. It felt warm and she loved the sensation of adoration he felt toward her when he did it.

She could feel a sudden urge on his part to explore. It began with her neck. Soon his hand was running along her side. After the first pass she decided it was too light. She stopped him and rubbed his hand back up her side from the hip to the shoulder - much more firmly this time. It felt better a little rougher. She had to admit that it made sense, when she'd kiss parts of him too lightly she'd giggle because it tickled her too.

Soon she was guiding his hand around. Sometimes he was too firm...sometimes not firm enough. Each time, she'd correct him. He could tell she enjoyed it when she smiled. Otherwise, she'd screw her face up with concentration as if trying to decide what she enjoyed and what she didn't.

After a while she stopped him. She lie back on her back. His hair stood up on his neck when she took his fingers into her mouth to wet them, "Be very careful," she requested. "Just let me show you."

She guided his hand. Her skin felt so delicate and smooth. She closed her eyes and concentrated as she explained, "It doesn't feel nearly as good as when you let me touch you but..."

She wondered if he'd ever really understand her. Then again, by the feel of things, he didn't really understand witches in general. "I am so much luckier than you," she claimed with a sigh as she finally opened her eyes.

"Why?" he asked distractedly. She smiled knowing that while he was listening, his attention was more on what he saw.

She closed her eyes, "Because all I need to be content is to be near you."

And that's when a feeling of warmth rushed over her. "I don't know why you think that's unique," he answered, "I feel the same way when I'm around you."

Inspired by his love, she decided to give him what he wanted.

**ZZZZZ**

Henry was livid. He watched from his tower window as, one by one, his people filed in. From the very lowest of henchman to the former Deputy Minister himself, there were so many of them that the Minister had approved the use of a ship for transport.

Very few actually knew exactly where Azkaban was located. Sure, most witches and wizards had the general idea that the island was somewhere Northeast or Northwest of Scotland. The specific coordinates were only known by select Ministry officials and those that transported the prisoners. Keeping the secret was easier than one would think because the island actually moved. That's how magical islands worked.

Sixty-four prisoners in all. The Captain of the Guard promptly had the South Tower expanded and by the end of the afternoon it stood thirty-six feet feet taller.

By lunch the next day Henry had the opportunity to speak to the Deputy and he found out that Eliza had come to the rescue of the Minister at the end. Benedict hadn't given up Henry as the orchestrator of the plan because the Deputy was never asked the right questions. Veritaserum forced one to tell the truth – not volunteer information.

Ewan never grasped the importance of Ginny in the overall scheme of things. As far as the Aurors knew, she had merely been a means to an end.

That evening he requested a meeting with the red-headed Auror. "You ruined everything," Henry complained. "Why?"

"We had a deal," Eliza explained. "You promised to kill Ginny. I wasn't going to let you have _your_ reward if you weren't going to give me mine."

"So you killed them? Just before they succeeded?" Henry asked.

Eliza brushed away his anger, "I gave them every opportunity. As soon as I saw that Ginny was safe I scratched everything."

"But why?" he asked, "I could have gotten her myself once the Deputy released me."

"Once he became Minister?" she laughed. "If he released you he wouldn't be Minister long."

Henry sighed, "So that's how it'll be? Until Ginny's dead, you will sabotage whatever I try to do?"

Eliza smirked, "That's my price."

"How?" the former Auror complained, "do you intend for me to kill her if all of my people are now in here? What do you intend for me to do?"

"I don't know about you," Eliza answered, "but I'll likely read a few books, practice a few spells and wait for the proper opportunity."

**ZZZZZ**

Gabrielle and Harry lie there, woozy.

She'd grown impatient with his fervent desire to strike gold. She tried a trick that her mum had once described to her, "Little one, once in a while your companion will fancy himself an adventurer. It is much easier for you both if he knows where he is going."

At first, Gabrielle was confused. Once her mother demonstrated, it became more clear. As she placed her hands on her child's head, she explained, "You can briefly channel your mind so that he can feel what you feel. You can also do this as defence if a cruel wizard intentionally tries to hurt you. The more pain her exerts...the more he feels." Gabrielle wasn't sure but she thought she'd caught a glint in her mother's eye.

Mother demonstrated the ritual a few times for her daughter. The little girl watched intently until she was certain she understood. Finally, little Gabrielle channelled her feelings on her mum as the elder Veela slapped her softly on the cheek. Both of them felt the sting.

It'd been a few years since Gabrielle had practised. Even so, it took no time at all for her to remember how it worked. Instantly, the feelings that Gabrielle had for Harry washed over him. It was like a warm crashing wave of goodness. At first he only felt the adoration that she had for him and even that was enough for him to want to just lie there.

Soon, though, he returned to his swashbuckling ways. As he touched her, he felt her inwardly sigh, "You don't like it when I touch you?"

"Don't take this wrongly," she answered, "But I'm just much better at it then you are."

At first he was certain that she was exaggerating. Unfortunately, he quickly began to understand why witches had pushed his hands away when they snogged. All this time he'd been absolute rubbish at the whole thing. It was a testament to the commitment of his ex-girlfriends' that they hadn't outright said something. Even things he'd done for months with Ginny made him cringe when he felt the results through Gabrielle's unusual mind meld.

He was brilliant at snogging though. As their lips met, he could feel her heart race. Their connection allowed him to feel a tingle from her head to her toes. He gently bit her ear when he felt a sudden cue to be more playful. Inspiration led his lips first to her neck and then closer to her heart.

She took a hold of his hand without his asking. She was looking for something and as she guided him he could sense what it was. With their minds connected together so intimately he could almost feel the spot in his mind. He could sense just what to do and how to do it. It was her inner voice begging him.

His hands were no longer his own. Once she'd shown them where to go they'd become her faithful servants. One held her firmly in place. The other worked frantically to send her over the edge of some metaphorical cliff.

Hermione used to scratch his back on occasion when they were studying and he'd get an itch. She could never quite hit the spot but she'd always get close. She'd always scratch too hard or not enough. Tonight, Harry could sense Gabrielle's itch. With their minds connected he quickly found just the right place and by the look on Gabrielle's face it was just hard enough.

Both of them felt it at once. There eyes closed. Every muscle tightened. They lost the capacity to even breathe. Honestly, they couldn't even think. And then everything went black.

Gabrielle was the first to regain her wits. She hadn't thought it possible. Her mum had told her that there was no better feeling than pleasing her companion. In this case her mum had been wrong.

But it had not been what Harry had done that had taken her over the edge. Sure, that felt spectacular but it was no different than what she'd felt many times before. It was what Harry had felt. If she was right, he actually _**Loved**_ her. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly...not wanting to risk letting him go.

Harry, for his part, was confused. He'd known since the day that he'd read Ginny's letter that he'd always love her. Even when he'd been with Eliza and Eve there'd been a hole in his heart. Now, even though he still cared for Ginny, he finally felt like that terrible yearning was gone. If she didn't love him then so be it. Gabrielle loved him and he thought he loved her. That was enough for him.

**ZZZZZ**

Lavender and Seamus lie close together. Both knew the other was waiting with anticipation for what was to come next. Both wanted so badly to get it over with. The food was eaten, the love was made and the music had long since trailed off to silence.

Seamus squeezed her shoulder gently and she knew he was ready. As she turned to lean into him, he asked, "Are you _absolutely_ sure this is what you want? You can have _anything_. All I have to do is wish it."

"Are you having second thoughts?" she asked. "What would _you_ want? Sacks of gold? Loads of riches?"

The implication hurt. Even so, this was no time for a row, "No. I want what's best for you. I love you. I was only wondering if there was anything else. You'll never get another chance like this."

She could tell his concern was genuine. She rewarded him with a peck on the cheek, "I have everything else I need in this world I need. I have you."

There would be no more perfect moment. He leaned into her and pressed his lips to hers.

It didn't happen right away. It must have been because they spent the first few seconds worrying about what would happen next instead of focusing on each other. Lavender wondered if she'd look the same or even prettier. Seamus was nervous that he'd wish wrongly.

But soon she was kissing him earnestly. True love was too difficult a force to ignore. Seamus had a lot of Irish in him - from the firm lips to the rough hands.

He'd grown up on a farm and his parents had believed in hard work. No amount of gold would have convinced them that their son shouldn't learn the values that the land taught. Each holiday he returned to do his share.

It was those rough hands that she fancied so much on her soft skin that made her lose herself in him.

That is when it happened. There was no glow or moment of truth. She didn't feel any tingling or power beyond her.

The necklace simply went dull. No longer the polished gold with ornate emeralds for eyes. The magic had left the necklace and it was now plain and scratched...much like a 4500 year old necklace would be.

She glanced at herself. She didn't feel any different. Something was wrong, though. Her skin now carried the moon-like shimmer that she remembered from their previous interludes with Seamus early on.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"It's done," she answered. "What did you wish?"

Seamus looked like a puppy that had been caught in the act of wetting the floor, "I wished what we talked about. I wished that your beauty live on forever." His face told her that his explanation was only half true. He was holding something back. He'd betrayed her.

Suddenly she felt very naked in front of him. She'd thought she'd known him. Lavender pulled the sheets up close to herself as she jumped out of bed. Covering herself...as if she somehow felt dirty...she screamed, "Get out!"

"But..." this was not how Seamus had wanted this to go.

"Get out!"

"But let me explain. I did it for us." He had to get her to understand.

He betrayed her _intentionally_? She began to look around for her wand. She was going to kill him!

Seamus watched helplessly as she searched, "What are you doing? Look up at me and listen. I know what you've always wanted and it's not..."

"GET OUT!" Forgetting her wand, she jumped on the bed and began swinging at him. He held up his hands to protect himself but didn't dare try to stop her. She couldn't really hurt him. He thought if she was able to get all of her anger out on him she'd finally listen.

She flailed and flailed until she ran out of fight. He just took the blows. When she'd finally had enough, her head dropped to her knees and she began sobbing.

"I only..."

"**GET OUT, I SAID!"**

He refused to budge. Seamus was going to talk this out if it killed him. That meant nothing to Lavender. If he wasn't going to leave...then she would. She stormed out of the room.

Seamus tried to follow her but she was too fast. It took her no time at all to stomp down the stairs and even less to make it to the floo in the Sitting Room. Little did she know there'd be someone in there at this late hour – nor did she care.

Ron was sitting on a sofa thumbing through an article handicapping the upcoming Quidditch matches in _**Quidditch Weekly**_ and thinking about his conversation with his mum earlier that night. He just couldn't bring himself to go upstairs and see his wife at the moment. It broke his heart that he couldn't tell his sister the wonderful news. He wondered if she'd ever forgive him for keeping the secret from her.

The 'thump, thump, thump.' of the stairs brought him out of his thoughts. His ex-girlfriend walked right by him without so much as a word. He couldn't help but admire her as she stopped at the floo just long enough to grab a pinch of powder. Her figure was etched in his mind long after the flash of green had announced her exit.

A sigh warned him that someone else was in the room. Ron wiped the smirk off his face before turning to see who it was, "What was that all about?"

Seamus stood there watching helplessly, "We had a bloody row. She was so upset she didn't even bother to put on any clothes."

Ron arched an eyebrow, "I saw that. You going to follow her?"

Seamus shook his head, "I dunno."

"Well, if you do," Ron advised, "I'd put something on. You look a bit cold."

The Irishman shook his head wearily. He ignored his mate's jibe and headed back upstairs.

**ZZZZZ**

Ron wasn't the only Weasley up late. Molly was busy proofing her handiwork:

_Wednesday 29 August 2001_

_My Dearest Daughter,_

_I'm well aware that we have not seen eye to eye in recent years. In fact, we have not seen each other at all. I have missed you dearly and it breaks my heart every time I see your picture in a magazine. Pen and paper is no substitute for the warmth of your hugs or the sound of your voice. _

_I understand your drive and I cannot deny the results. You have accounted for yourself well._

_That said, I have some news that may cause you to reconsider your self-imposed exile from the family. Your youngest brother will be a father soon. I know this likely comes as a surprise. For some odd reason, beyond my comprehension, Ron and Hermione have decided to hide the baby from all of us. Maybe it is fear of my wrath. Maybe he is embarrassed. What I do know is that he longs very much to tell you. _

_I am going to give your brother a month to tell me himself. If he doesn't do it by October then I see no hope for him._

_Even so, I plan to host a surprise party for Hermione to formally welcome her and the baby to the family. I would like it very much if you would attend. We will have it on my birthday so that it will not interfere with your Quidditch season. It would mean the world to me if you would attend. I miss you more than you will ever know._

_Love Always,_

_Your Mum_

Molly couldn't read the letter without becoming misty-eyed. It wasn't perfect...she rambled and the letter took a while to get to the point. In some places it was too formal and others not formal enough. She'd written many a letter to her daughter in the past but seldom did she get more than a short note back telling her that Ginny loved her and that it wasn't the family that she was avoiding.

But it _was_ the family she was avoiding. Molly had sided squarely with Harry with how Ginny treated him and despite the boy's protests she'd announced how disappointed she was in her daughter early on. Guilt was a powerful force and it pushed Ginny firmly away from the family. She couldn't face them as long as she played Quidditch because they'd always be a reminder of what she'd given up to win at the highest level. She'd given up love and there wasn't a day that she wondered whether she'd made the right choice.

Molly trusted Pigwidgeon with the note.

When the owl arrived the next morning at Ginny's with the small piece of parchment tucked onto his small leg, Ginny was reluctant to untie it. She was already late to practise that morning. Gwenog was still having difficulty using her new hand. A brilliant Healer from the States specialising in enchanting Muggle prosthetics had fashioned several for her but none had worked to her satisfaction. The difficulty was that they were never meant to take the punishment that Gwenog had grown accustomed to putting her natural hands through. The Harpies' trainers had often complained to Gwenog that her hands would be useless after retirement...now she feared retirement might come even sooner than she'd anticipated.

So, Ginny practised and practised with Gwenog hoping that the Beater would find a delicate balance between her powerful swing and the care needed to make her prosthetic last an entire match.

Needless to say, Ginny didn't have time to be reading letters. She stopped, anyway, for no real good reason. She cursed as she tried to release the knots that her mum had become famous for. After tugging and pulling she was able to wrestle the parchment free.

Even more time was wasted as she searched for a scrap to feed poor Pigwidgeon. She couldn't possibly send the little owl away hungry after such a long flight. The thankful hoot more than made up for the time lost, though, and Ginny smiled as the happy little owl flew off. Now, being very late, Ginny shoved the letter in a pocket and rushed out the door to meet her best mate at the pitch.

The complex that the Harpies had built could have just as easily been a convent during the week. Two years before, each of the young witches had sworn to forego serious relations with wizards during the season. This was particularly hard for Angelina who had married George in a very small ceremony a year before. It was soon decided as a compromise that only during weeks leading up to matches would they hold each other to the oath.

Ginny shook her head as she reached the pitch. They'd sacrificed so much for success. Now there was a good chance that all had been for naught. At the beginning of the season there was talk that the Harpies could become a dynasty after winning the previous cup so handily. First there was the injury to Isa which had threatened the season. This injury though was much more devastating. If Gwenog was forced to retire then that could spell trouble for the Harpies' long term prospects.

Well, it wasn't as if the injury had come accidentally. Ginny was certain that Wilda had left because Isa had overshadowed her as Chaser the year before. It wasn't enough for her to win a championship, Wilda had to be her mum's favourite. As far as Ginny could see, it had been good riddance – even if it had weakened the club from a talent perspective. But, then, when it looked like even Wilda couldn't put Puddlemore over the top, she must have snapped.

The Ministry had dealt harshly with the Puddlemore Chaser. Ginny knew it broke Wilda's mum's heart. It wasn't easy being the Manager and Coach of the Harpies when her daughter Wilda was playing for their biggest rival. Ginny could feel Glynnis Griffiths wince when Gwenog had sent a bone shattering Bludger straight for Wilda and nearly took her off her broom earlier in the season. Now her daughter was in Azkaban serving a sentence for three counts of attempted murder and one count of Conspiracy to Commit Treason.

When Ginny popped into the changing rooms a good ten minutes late Gwenog simply glared at her. Ginny found her broom and robes and changed as quickly as she could. As Gwenog waited she thumped her stump of a hand on her locker over and over again. The Harpy Seeker was certain that this was going to be a less than pleasant practise.

Once she changed, Ginny placed her clothes in her locker. Gwenog finally spoke, "Why are you late?"

"I'm actually twenty minutes early," Ginny reminded her. "The others will be here soon."

Gwenog glared at her, "You agreed to practise with me early. That makes you late."

Ginny had had enough. She turned on her mate, "I can understand the whole hand thing. I get it. You can brood all you want but could you please lay off me a little?"

The Harpy Beater clenched her good fist. It wouldn't taken much for her to lay Ginny out. Gwenog was twice her size and had an even ten inches on her in height. Even so, Ginny didn't back down a bit. She looked squarely up into her mate's eyes and insisted, "You need to stop acting like such a hag. Otherwise, we're going to fall apart and we won't have a chance to repeat.

Gwenog unclenched her fist. Ginny was right. She softened her glare, "Why were you late?"

Ginny shrugged, "I got an owl from Mum."

"Really? What about?" Gwenog asked a little more cheerily. She had always been envious of Ginny's absurdly large family. Well, it was absurdly large when you counted all of the attached girlfriends. Ginny always had a story about one of them – even if she only got the news from letters and secret meetings with George.

"I don't know," Ginny answered as they headed for the door. "It's in my locker. I ran straight here."

"Well, _Go Get It_!" the Beater insisted. "I could use something to cheer me up."

Moments later, Gwenog Jones was stopping any and every soul she could in the Harpy Complex, "Ginny's going to be an Aunt! Ron's having a baby!"

Most of the staff smiled politely and wished their Congratulations. One of the trainers who'd always taken a special interest in Ginny was especially interested though, "That is fantastic! When is the baby due?"

"I don't know," the redhead answered. "But Mum's throwing a party for them on her birthday at the Burrow."

"Really?" the trainer asked. "When is that?"

Gwenog chimed in, "It's October 30th, isn't it Ginny? But she won't go. She hasn't been to see her family in ages."

"What?" the trainer asked. "Family is very important. And this will be such a memorable occasion. You really all should be together for this!"

"You know," Ginny thought out loud, "I really should be there. The season will be over. I haven't seen them in ages. Ron would never forgive me if I wasn't there."

The trainer's eyes twinkled, "Exactly!" She placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder, "Promise me you will go. It would be so good for you to see your family."

"I will," Ginny answered excitedly. "I mean I should."

"Promise?" the young assistant asked hopefully, "It would break my heart if I showed up in February and you told me you'd hung around the Complex alone chasing snitches."

Ginny was now certain, "I promise!"

"Excellent," the young trainer smiled. "Come by after practise and I will give you a quick trim. You're looking a little shaggy around the edges."

"Thanks!" Ginny called out as the trainer ambled off.

The young trainer grinned happily as she strolled back to her office. This year she'd put away a tidy sum of Gold by selling otherwise useless bits of Ginny's hair. Recently she'd received even more by keeping tabs on Ginny's whereabouts. And best of all? Tonight she might be able to coax a few extra Galleons out of her benefactor for convincing the reclusive Ginny to leave the Complex.


	45. TP 45 Epiphany

**Chapter 45 – Epiphany**

**Submitted: Monday 7 Jan 2013**

**A/N: I had hoped to have the story finished by now so that all that was left was the editing. Unfortunately I came down with a nasty case of pneumonia this past Friday. Even today, as I edit this chapter, I'm a bit woozy. My doctor would be very angry if he know I'd sat up for four hours today working on this. We are now down to four chapters. I hope you enjoy them. Please continue to let me know what you think.**

Lydia couldn't help but smirk. Most wives would be livid yet she trusted her husband implicitly. If anything, she found it humorous that her husband was falling all over himself for a girl who was trying so little. If anything, Gabrielle seemed embarrassed by the attention.

Harry had brought Gabrielle with him so that she could see Delphi for herself. For a month he'd tried to figure out how he could make a relationship with Gabrielle work long term. Despite the fact that he genuinely cared for Gabrielle, it was a fact that every time he saw a poster or heard a reference to Ginny he wondered if he was making the right decision.

When Lavender returned the now useless necklace, inspiration came over him. Why not move to Delphi? Like Lavender in the Forbidden Forest, Harry wouldn't have to worry about the constant reminders of what he was giving up. He'd have a fresh start.

Gabrielle and Harry had talked before about moving to Delphi during the colder months. Gabrielle wasn't sure if she could spend winters in London after attending school for much of her childhood just off the coast of Mediterranean. Even her short stint at Hogwarts during the TriWizard Tournament years before had been difficult.

He promptly wrote Antiones asking his advice. The Helene wrote back begging Harry to bring the girl down with him:

_Harry,_

_I absolutely must see the siren who has stolen the heart of my dearest friend. Lydia and I have spoken for months about finding a suitable companion for you and we are both thrilled to hear that you have succeeded all on your own. I will make sure to have the Villa ready for you to inspect and if it meets your satisfaction then the owner shall be happy to close the transaction._

_Regards,_

_Antiones_

Today, that's exactly what Antiones was doing. He was showing the Villa off to Harry to make sure he was happy with it. Only, to Lydia's amusement, Antiones barely paid attention to Harry. Instead, he was making every effort to show Gabrielle every square inch of the premises:

"As you can see, the courtyard is a good size and the well is of good quality. There is ample room in the courtyard for your children to play as they grow. Nearly all of the rooms are connected to the courtyard."

Gabrielle peeked through a double set of doors, "What is this room here? It seems larger than the others."

Antiones pointed, "That one? That one is called the Andron. I believe Harry has referred to similar rooms as Sitting Rooms. It is where the men gather to entertain their friends and business associates."

Gabrielle seemed disappointed, "The men? Are women not allowed?"

It amused Lydia how quickly her husband backtracked, "Oh, of course. We socialize with a more sophisticated crowd but in more traditional circles the women segregate themselves from the men during social events." Antiones pointed to another room further down, "They typically retire to the Gynaikon across the way so they may speak more plainly about their men and the events of the day."

His wife couldn't help but tease him, "Don't you fill that poor girl with ideas." She placed her hand on the Veela's shoulder, "It is normally the men that speak plainly about the women, my dear. They'd rather not have us ladies around when they tell their stories for fear that we may provide a more accurate account."

Harry shook his head amused at the back and forth. He'd allowed Antiones to show Gabrielle around as he performed his own search of the home. It seemed to suit him well. Large columns lined the perimeter of the courtyard. This villa was unique in that one side of the courtyard was open to a balcony that overlooked ancient Delphi and the Muggle village below it. He fancied the view of the ancient ruins of the temples were visible...especially the Tholos. He'd been enamoured by the Tholos since his first visit with Hermione the year before.

The Villa had not been cheap by Greek standards. Argh, Helene standards...he'd have to stop calling the place Greece if he was going to live here. "Hellas. Hellas. Hellas," he thought out loud to himself. Anyway, there had been several properties that Antiones had described to him that were available. Harry would have been happy with any of them.

It had been a visit by Antiones and his wife to this property for a party that they both remarked to the owner that Harry would fall in love with it if he saw it. The owner was reluctant to sell until Antiones remarked offhand what Harry had offered on another property, "He's willing to pay up to ten thousand drachmas for the right place."

At the time, Harry thought that would be a proper sum because he remembered Hermione saying that most buildings in Hellas could be purchased for that amount. He forgot that Hermione had said that the Royal Palace could be purchased for such a tidy sum.

And the proud owner of this beautiful villa had parted with it for well less. A mere thousand Galleons was negotiated between Antiones and the owner. The bloke promptly commissioned a villa twice its size nearby and still had enough gold to live comfortably for the rest of his days. Antiones had been concerned that he'd negotiated poorly on his mate's behalf but Harry didn't blink...he thanked Antiones for reaching an agreement that both parties were happy with.

Now that Harry had a chance to see the place, he was thrilled. The marble was the finest quality, the design was perfect and every room looked inviting. The only thing that the owner had asked to take with him was the statue of Hermes that had stood in the courtyard. It had been with the family for generations.

Harry could hear Gabrielle as he returned to the courtyard from the balcony, "Where are the bedrooms? Can you show me?"

"Erm..." Antiones began to stutter, "I...I don't th...think...it wouldn't be a good idea if I..."

Lydia saved him, "Dear, why don't the two of us ladies slip upstairs and leave the men to discuss business? I will show you the bedrooms."

Once the witches were gone, Antiones exhaled, "I don't know what came over me. Ever since the two of you arrived I've felt like a blithering idiot."

"I warned you in the letter," Harry reminded him, "she wields a certain power over men."

"I thought you meant figuratively," Antiones lamented, "I can't think straight. How do you do it?"

Harry chuckled. "She has that effect over nearly every bloke she meets. Ron is struck dumb by both her and her sister. When he sees the two of them together he won't even enter the room."

Antiones frowned, "If she bats her eyelashes one more time I'm afraid to think what I might do. You're my friend, Harry, but a man can only be so strong."

Harry pulled out his wand, "Well, seeing as we're mates, we can't have you trying to snog her. Let me try a charm that Hermione taught me."

Antiones eyed the wand with suspicion but was desperate enough to let Harry make a go of it. The Tyrants of Hellas honed their magical talents in many different ways but only the old crones used wands or cast actual spells. Harry was well aware of the history by now but couldn't help but hazard a smile when Antiones flinched as he pointed the wand at him. When Harry recited the charm '_Abstinite Libido_,' Antiones visibly winced.

However, Antiones was of a completely different opinion of charms and wands by the time the foursome left the villa. He pulled Harry to the side, "Whatever you did was amazing. I can actually look her in the eye now without falling all over myself."

As they prepared to return to the palace, Harry took time to pull Lydia to the side and apologise. Fortunately, she was of good spirits, "Oh, Harry, I knew some sort of magic was at work. Antiones is as loyal a husband as they come. How could he help it if he were bewitched?"

"She wasn't trying," Harry explained, "it just comes naturally to her."

"Well," Lydia mused, "I'm certain good will come of it. He'll likely treat me to a beautiful piece of jewellery. That's usually what he does when he feels guilty."

**ZZZZZZZZZ**

Sure enough, later that evening, Lydia's hair was up so that the guests could see her new gift.

"Oh my," Gabrielle sighed, "those earrings are beautiful. They are so...sparkly."

"Thank you," Lydia smiled joyfully, "my husband bought them for me just today."

Antiones leaned over to Harry, "Thanks for using that spell. If you hadn't I'd have to decide between banning you and your girlfriend from the palace or keeping a jeweller on retainer."

"Sorry about that," Harry admitted, "I'll have to see if I can help you learn the charm on your own so that you aren't required to rely on me."

Lydia looked at her husband severely, "What are you two whispering about over there? You know it's rude to tell secrets."

"No such thing," Antiones answered, "Harry was just commenting about how perfect those earrings look on you."

Lydia let out 'Harrumph' before turning to Gabrielle, "My husband has an adventure planned with Harry tomorrow. We'll have the day to ourselves. Are you up for sunning at the baths?"

"Sure!" Gabrielle answered happily.

"Excellent!" Lydia smiled. "With that decided, let's go meet the King for dinner."

A banquet had been prepared for Harry's arrival and King Pelleus had been invited. Antiones had earned a reputation as an entertainer when he served as king of Hellas. That reputation didn't suffer one bit once he stepped down. An invite to the Delphinian Palace for an evening's dinner was still one of the most sought after treasures in the kingdom. The banquet hall was already bustling when Harry arrived with his host and their dates.

Antiones was the largest landholder in Delphi and he owned the single largest home in the state. It was referred to by all as The Palace and it was large enough to hold all of the residents of Delphi if necessary. Held up by huge columns, the palace was among the most significant buildings in modern day magical Greece...though it was dwarfed by its sister Palace in Olympia.

King Pelleus was already there to greet them when they arrived. Being the king, he immediately took the place of honour at the head of the dining hall despite being a visitor of Antiones. Joined by his wife Media, he was as pompous as ever. Harry remembered how offended the Tyrant had been the last time Harry had referred to him by his given name. This time he remembered to use the king's title.

Harry bowed before the king, "Your Highness, may I introduce you to Gabrielle Delacour of France?"

Pelleus mumbled a curse under his breath. Secretly he'd hoped Harry would slip up again so that he could put him in his place. Instead he grumbled, "I suppose you may."

But when King Pelleus looked up into the eyes of the blonde Veela he lost all pretense, "My oh my. Wherever did Mr. Potter find you?"

"Under the sea," she answered mysteriously.

"Excuse me?" The King only had eyes for her, "I don't understand. I wasn't aware that Poseidon was capable of such beauty."

Antiones and Harry shared a look. Queen Media was not at all pleased with the King's new interest. As the Veela told the story of how Harry had saved her under the waters during the TriWizard Tournament years before, Harry discreetly pulled out his wand.

King Pelleus didn't notice. He only had eyes for Gabrielle, "You remind me so much of the paintings in our palace. Mostly around the eyes, you look like Aphrodite herself. Where are you from?"

As Gabrielle answered politely, Harry tried to think of some way to utter the spell without causing suspicion. Antiones must have read his mind because he asked Harry conversationally, "What was that phrase that the Romans used to use to drive away lustful spirits?"

Harry almost missed his chance. The randomness of the question brought all eyes on them. The women let out 'tsks' and shook their head. Harry suppressed a grin as he tapped his wand on the King's back and answered, " _Abstinite Libido. _That was the phrase."

Thinking that Harry was making him the butt of a joke, King Pelleus stepped away from the wizard. He was too angry to notice that he'd regained his faculties. Instead he pointed a finger at Harry, "You shall refrain from touching me, _boy_. What were you insinuating, anyhow?"

Antiones was the one to answer, "He wasn't insinuating anything. Harry was only answering a question of mine. While you _acquainted_ yourself with his guest we were having our own conversation."

Pelleus pretended to ignore Antiones' insinuation but he couldn't ignore his wife. Her glare forced him to look away. Hoping to change the subject, he turned back to Harry, "What do we owe the pleasure of your return?"

Harry smiled, "I plan to visit Olympia in the morning. I have a debt to repay."

The king seemed troubled, "You found the necklace earlier this year, did you not?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, why?"

"I'm sorry Harry," Pelleus answered, "I only allowed you to visit Olympia before because you were in search of the necklace. I owed you a debt due to this Tyrant's foolishness." Pelleus didn't look sorry at all.

Antiones glared at the king in such a way that the banquet hall became strangely quiet. Pelleus obviously feared the former king but he did his best not to acknowledge it. Instead he stood his ground, "Outsiders are not allowed in the Secret City. I made an exception for you before but now that debt is paid. Our customs shall return to those of old."

"But," Harry didn't know how to explain his predicament.

Pelleus frowned, "You'll need to ask the citizen you owe your debt to if he will come here. Don't worry," the king added derisively, "they allow nearly anyone to visit Delphi."

Antiones might have throttled the king if his wife hadn't placed a calming hand on his shoulder. She whispered, "There, there, dear. Only three more years. Besides, he's only jealous of your popularity."

Gabrielle had stopped listening. She was relieved that that petty little toad of a king was no longer babbling on at her but she was very sad for Harry. He'd been unclear what it was that he was doing tomorrow but she knew that it was important to him. She glanced at the king's wife and wondered what she saw in the man. Remembering an old story her mother told her as a child, she wondered if their relationship had started with a promise and a kiss.

**ZZZZZZZZZ**

Antiones followed quietly behind his mate, "You do realise that if she stabs you again then there's nothing I can do, right?"

"Aye," Harry answered as he searched the corridor for the entrance they'd used before.

"And if we are caught that I'll be tried for Treason?"

"MmmHmmm..." Harry answered as they found the entrance to Aphrodite's chamber. "What is the punishment for Treason here?"

"Hades and Harbingers," Antiones answered shrilly, "I don't know. I'd rather not find out."

"You were king!" Harry stopped to look carefully at Antiones, "And you don't know the punishment for treason in your own country?"

Antiones puffed up, "No-one was foolish enough to cross me."

Harry shook his head and continued on. Soon they found the final corridor. From there it wouldn't take long.

Antiones wasn't afraid of what awaited them in the chamber. He was still too concerned with what would happen if the Olympians caught them. He shouldn't have been too concerned.

By now, the difficult part was over. Antiones had smuggled Harry into Olympia as a servant. No-one had tried to enter Olympia illegally in centuries so the guards had barely taken the time to look up from their posts when they'd appeared.

Only once did anyone even consider asking Harry who he was. Antiones explained quickly that he had brought a servant to carry an old necklace he planned to get appraised before selling it. Harry showed the bloke the ancient necklace and the guard's only response was, "Good luck getting anything for that."

Now, as they walked through the lonely corridor in the basement that opened into Aphrodite's chamber, Harry still clutched the necklace. All he wanted was acknowledgement that he'd fulfilled his promise. The sooner he was able to return the necklace to Aphrodite, the happier he'd be.

"What do you think of Gabrielle?" Harry asked unexpectedly as they entered the chamber.

Antiones considered the statue waiting for them, "You picked a fine time to ask. Don't you think it would be more appropriate to discuss this when we are not preparing to wake a five thousand year old deity with a strong aversion to intimacy?"

"Fine," Harry answered as he approached the statue, "I'll simply ask _**her**_."

"If she stabs you for it then I'm leaving you here," Antiones reminded him.

Harry grinned, "If so, make sure Hermione gets my wand."

With that, Harry stepped up onto the pedestal. He wasted no time.

**ZZZZZZZZZ**

Once again, his lips never touched stone. The alabaster statue had instantly been replaced by the warm witch that he'd embraced only months before. Oddly, when he opened his eyes, he noticed certain similarities, "If you had different hair and blue eyes..."

"Yes," Aphrodite answered, "You can now understand why I wished so strongly to end the curse. Gabrielle is my blood. She and a hundred generations of ancestors suffered because I was so flippant with my marriage vows. And that is only one of the many curses that resulted from that evil contraption."

Harry pulled the necklace out of his pocket, "It looks much different now."

"It was the magic that he surrounded it with. Hephaestus was truly an amazing smith. If you could have seen his other work. He built a chariot for Poseidon that..."

"I did see it. At least I saw one of them," Harry interrupted. "It was brilliant."

"Then you know," she frowned. "I should have seen him for what he was instead of what he wasn't. First as a ghost and then bound to this stone tomb, I've had centuries to consider my mistakes. I feel so badly for them. Fortunately, I've finally found peace."

"I am happy to hear that," Harry smiled.

"I couldn't have done it without you," Aphrodite insisted. "I owe you a great debt. One I fear I'll never be able to repay. Thank you so much."

Harry blushed. He didn't know what to say.

Aphrodite smiled, "I feel like I am finally ready to move on. There is only one thing more before I do."

"What is that?" Harry asked.

The ancient Tyrant batted her eyes, "My reputation as the Goddess of Love came to me legitimately. Often I'd visit the villages below Mount Olympus and seduce young men. It has been a long, long, long time. I'd like to know one more time the touch of a man."

"Here?" Harry asked. He gestured to the chamber which was covered in rags and bones.

Aphrodite snapped her fingers and instantly the chamber was replaced by an elegant bedroom. A large balcony promised a view of the ocean and a fireplace provided the sole source of light and warmth. She smiled, "We are in your mind, Harry. Do you see your friend Antiones anywhere?"

Harry's shoulders slumped.

"You act so unlucky," Aphrodite chided him. "I swear that your false modesty will someday cause you great harm. You act as if you wish to hold back but you are no better than any other man."

"I can't" Harry insisted. "I made a promise."

"You don't need to worry about promises. I can transform myself into any woman you wish, If I am the woman you promised then you won't really be breaking a promise, will you?"

Harry thought back to Eliza. The logic that Aphrodite used was very similar. Eliza had transformed many a bloke into replicas of him and pretended to be with him so she could rationalize that she wasn't cheating. He knew such logic was foolishness.

"I made the promise to myself." he answered. "I promised I would wait until I married. I promised I would truly love the woman and that I would pledge my love to her alone before our friends and family. I will give myself to one person and that person alone will become one with me. These promises mean something to _me_."

Aphrodite considered him carefully, "But you have already broken the intent behind these promises, now haven't you? Have you not shared a bed with three witches already?"

"I've shared a bed, yes. But while it is similar it is not the same. Certainly, when it comes down to it, what I have left to offer my future wife is very little."

"Exactly. What real value _do_ you offer with this promise? You have rationalised away all of the _real_ value of it. You decided it was ok to kiss Ginny although you'd save the rest for later. You decided that it was ok to look at Eliza's bare body, but you'd save the rest for the one you married. You decided that it was acceptable to share absolute unabridged passion with Gabrielle so long as you saved the rest for marriage. What really is left?"

Aphrodite placed her arms around him so she might look directly into his soul, "What, Harry, do you think you have left to offer. What have you saved for marriage? You've mangled your promises into tatters of what they were intended to be. You've erased and redrawn your line of acceptable behaviour so many times that it's impossible to see where that line even is. Why not be done with the whole business and do what you know you want to do right now? This final act that you deny yourself is pointless."

Harry considered, "True or not, this final line has value to me. _** I**_ believe it is important. Whether it is a petty or arbitrary or not, whether the virtue of the promise has been stripped away, _**I**_ still feel it has value. On my wedding night I will be able to say to the one I love that I have never known another woman in the way that I know her. I will be able to share something with her that I will have never shared with another witch and I will never share with another witch again. She and I will be one forever and no-one shall come between us or break that bond."

Aphrodite was not to give up so easily. Within a blink she transformed herself into Gabrielle. Even her voice mimicked Gabrielle's, "How about now? How many times have you wished that I just move one inch to the right as I sat in your lap embraced in a kiss?" She tried to kiss Harry but he turned his head.

"How about now?" Eliza's voice made him look up. There before him was the beautiful redhead that had danced around him with such reckless abandon so many times. Now, she twirled around him as she'd done so many times when she'd wanted to rid his mind of melancholy. Though he couldn't help but stare, Eliza's touch made him shy away. Eliza sighed and transformed back to the classical beauty that was Aphrodite, "You are a complicated one. I was certain you'd give it up for her. You've wanted to bag her since she walked out on you."

"Would you get out of my head?" Harry asked angrily.

"Not quite yet."

Aphrodite tried one last time. She would have gone for Ginny first but strangely, she was the witch of the three that he lusted after the least. His feelings for her were different. They were all mushy and warm...and weak. Even so, when she shrunk down into the petite young witch he'd spent much of his teenage years adoring, she felt the room shake.

'Why?' she asked herself. He didn't desire her as much as miss her. He didn't want to kiss her as much as to hold her. Oh, he felt those things, too.

She had to ask, "What is it that you love so much more about _me_?"

"I don't know," Harry answered. He knew she was the ancient Tyrant but he couldn't help but think of her as Ginny as well, "We've shared so much together for so long. When I was forced into the wilderness after Dumbledore died I swore my love to you. I swore I'd love you forever."

"On your magic?"

Harry thought to himself, "I don't know. I might have. It was the afternoon that Bill got married. Do you remember? I swore to myself that I'd come back for you."

Aphrodite smiled. She now knew the answer. She transformed back to herself, "Harry you bound yourself to Ginny that day. As long as you know there is a chance that Ginny _might_ love you then you will not be able to truly love another woman. Only if she tells you that she does not love you, or Hades forbid she dies, will you be released from this bond."

"But," Harry shook his head, "she wrote as much in her letter."

"No," Aphrodite answered as she searched his mind. "She actually said she still loved you." Aphrodite laughed, "That and your marriage vow have combined to put you in a terrible spot."

Harry was confused, "How so?"

She gestured for Harry to sit on the imaginary bed, "You swore on your magic not to have carnal relations until marriage." He brought up a finger to protest but she reminded him, "Not the first time. It was once when you spoke to Ginny. You really must be careful what you swear, Harry...it can be very dangerous. In this case, you placed yourself into a conundrum. Ginny refused to marry a man she had not slept with and you swore not to sleep with a woman until you married her."

"But I was with both Gabrielle and Eliza," Harry protested. "How could I do those things with them if I loved Ginny?"

"How could I be married to Hephaestus if I loved Adnonis? Or Ares?" Aphrodite countered. "Marriage and love and even lust are entirely different things. The only reason, in your case, they were tied together at all is because you made a series of oaths on your magic that bound them together."

"But what about my oath to you?" Harry asked. "I swore that I'd do anything you asked when I accepted the necklace. What if you asked me to make love to you as your favour?"

"You are lucky I don't," Aphrodite answered. "You'd be forced to comply...and then you'd kill yourself or do yourself terrible bodily harm for breaking your oath."

Harry remembered how Peter Pettigrew had served his life debt to Harry in the dungeon at Malfoy Manor. The conflicting debt and oath that he'd made to Voldemort forced him to strangle himself to death.

"Fortunately," she answered thoughtfully, "I have other plans for that oath that leave you safe."

"Other plans?" Harry was leery.

"We'll get to that in a moment," Aphrodite promised. "First I need to ask you another favour. This one you will not be bound to."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Gabrielle. I can tell that you have feelings for her. In fact, I'd say you've come as close as you can to loving her despite your oath." Aphrodite took his hand in hers, "If Ginny releases you, would you please consider making her your wife?"

"I would like nothing less," Harry admitted. "You really believe that I won't be able to truly love Gabrielle until I know for sure about Ginny?" It wasn't that Harry didn't want to love Ginny. He just didn't know if he could bear hearing from her own lips that she didn't love _him_.

"I'm certain," Aphrodite assured him. "And wouldn't you want to know, anyhow? You've loved her since you were a boy. You would be together now if it weren't for Voldemort. You need to know."

The young wizard shook his head, "Why is it that my entire life revolves around 'have to' and 'must?' Can't someone else be the one who must?"

Aphrodite slapped him. It wasn't hard. She just wanted to get his attention, "You stop that. I've spent years paying for a stupid mistake. Do you think it was fair what Harmonia and her descendants had to go through due to my foolishness? Stop feeling sorry for yourself and be a man."

Harry was too weary to be angry, "What is this final thing you need for me to do? How can I pay my debt? We might as well get on with it."

"First...at least kiss me one more time. If I'm to leave this world I want to at least have the illusion that I didn't leave it alone."

For once the visions began to travel both ways. Harry could feel the loneliness she'd endured for centuries in the cold statue. Before then were centuries more of wandering around Thebes watching sadly as her daughter's descendants suffered due to her mistakes. He could feel how she yearned to have someone to at least bear her burden with. The guilt that she had carried with her was as heavy as any weight he'd ever bore.

He stood up and held her. As she cried in his arms, he said the only thing that she needed to hear, "Regardless of what you did, what happened to your daughter was not your fault. Your husband had no right to do what he did."

He kissed her briefly...gently...on the lips, "_I _will _**always**_ remember you and I will _**always**_ be thankful for your help. Don't forget. The last thing that necklace did was provide a very lonely witch two months to remember what it was like to be her old self. You allowed something your husband meant for evil to be used briefly for good."

Aphrodite pulled Harry tightly to her, "You are a good man. I probably wouldn't have recognised it when I was alive but if I'd had the proper wits about me I think I could have found a way to be faithful to a man like you. Now...I think I'm ready for you to honour your promise."

**ZZZZZZZZZ**

Antiones felt slightly uncomfortable as he watched Harry kiss the half-dressed woman. A small part of him wondered if it'd be more appropriate for him to wait out in the corridor. But, then again, all kidding aside, what would Harry do if she again stabbed him in the back and Antiones was not there to offer his assistance.

Fortunately, this time when Harry released Aphrodite, she was much more cordial. She blew Antiones a kiss...causing him to grow woozy. Like a young boy, he happily blew a kiss back.

She handed Harry her dagger and knelt on one knee. The young wizard stood there reluctantly until she asked, 'Please?" Antiones felt a sense of foreboding.

Harry pulled the dagger back before burying it deep into her chest.

Her eyes squinted closed as she grimaced in pain. Strangely, not a drop of blood fell. Instead, tiny bits of powdery chalk floated to the ground as she collapsed first to her hands and knees and then ultimately to her back. Antiones thought she was dead.

But then her eyes opened wide. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. She wheezed, "You must pull it out."

Harry glanced pleadingly at Antiones. Was he doing the right thing? Without truly knowing why, the former king nodded to Harry.

The young wizard returned his attention to the witch who was silently begging for mercy. He began carving a hole in her chest with the dagger as she'd instructed him to do before. There were no ribs or other bones to stop him. Inside was only powdery chalk. He continued to carve and carve as she stared helplessly up at him. His tears began to fall to her chest, "I'm sorry. I'm going as fast as I can."

Eventually he found something solid. He dug the dagger deeper into her chest trying to wedge out the solid stone. She gulped and he bit his lip. No matter how hard he pried, he couldn't get it out. Finally, he tossed the dagger to the side and dug with his bare hands. He pulled and pulled...wrestling with the stone as she whimpered. Only when he'd nearly given up did it finally pop out.

The capsule resembled a giant ruby but it could have just as easily been glass. As Harry marvelled at it, the witch next to him began to convulse. It hadn't worked...

She began to beat her closed hand on the ground. Harry didn't understand at first but Antiones did. The former king coaxed him, "Break it on the ground!"

Harry glanced back at Aphrodite who desperately nodded her head. Wasting no time, he raised the gem high in the air and hammered it to the ground as hard as he could. It shattered in his hand – leaving a bloody mess. He groaned in pain. He went looking for anything to wrap it with.

Antiones was sure Harry would be al right. Instead he stared at the poor witch lying on the floor.

Aphrodite lie there staring at nothing at all. She'd stopped panting or even moving. In fact, before his eyes, she returned to stone. Not alabaster...now she was common chalk and she was quickly losing her form. Soon she was no more than a small mound of white powder. 'Thankfully,' Antiones thought to himself, she was finally out of her misery.

**ZZZZZZZZZ**

Once the young wizard had time to get over what he'd been forced to do, he gathered his things and prepared to leave.

Repairing his bloody hand had been tricky. He was forced to attempt a healing charm with his wand in his off-hand. Fortunately, Ewan had drilled off-hand healing training into all of his Aurors for just such an occasion. The former Auror Trainer and DADA instructor had claimed early and often that his Aurors would be shocked how often they'd be forced to use this particular training.

Oddly, Harry wasn't upset. Sure, he'd be haunted by the excruciating pain he'd been forced to watch her endure as he'd removed that capsule. Even so, the pain was well worth her release from the aching loneliness she'd suffered through for Centuries in that stone prison. He was sure her freedom was well worth a few minutes of agony.

The first thing he did once he repaired his hand was to conjure a bag and a broom. He carefully swept up every bit of chalk that he could gather and placed it in the bag. He then placed the single hair that he'd found buried in the capsule in an envelope. The envelope he placed in the bag as well as the ancient necklace and the small dagger.

Antiones regretted complaining that they'd have to get past the guards to return to Delphi. Without a word, Harry grabbed a hold of Antiones and the former king let out a yelp as the world around them instantly disappeared. It began as a small tug on his navel and then it quickly transformed into the uneasy feeling that his entire body was being squeezed through a tiny tube. Before he knew it, he was standing in the Sitting Room of his own Palace in Delphi, shivering. The Helene was determined to never travel in such a fashion again.

Harry didn't even take time to make sure his mate was steady. The young wizard headed straight to his quarters where he finally took the time to lie down and properly mourn. Weariness soon took over and he dozed off.

When he woke he was sure it must be morning. At first, he had no interest in getting out of bed. He wondered if he'd been missed at dinner the night before.

He drew sudden inspiration from the fact that he was in Delphi. Quickly, he jumped out of bed and threw on his clothes. Servants and guests of the Palace watched in wonder as he rushed by. It wasn't often that anyone ever rushed anywhere here. Moments later, he'd pushed open the double doors of the palace and scampered down the well worn trail to the temple nearby.

He remembered to place a Galleon in the Depository before entering. It would be one thing to ask for one more answer. It would be insulting if he tried to do so without making an offering.

The young wizard tried not to appear too desperate. He did his best to stroll up to the priestess. As he got closer and closer, he was reminded of the sickeningly sweet smell that wafted up from the fissures in the marble floor.

It was worth a try, "Oracle, I was wondering if I might ask one more question."


	46. TP 46 The Cards Are Dealt

**Chapter 46 – The Cards Are Dealt**

**Submitted: Wed 17 Jan 2013 Prev. Chap: Tuesday 8 Jan 2013**

**A/N: This is another very long chapter. Although it was written a month ago it's undergone revision after revision. There are only a few more chapters to go and I'm going to be sad when it's done. One last thing...thanks to all of you that have sent me notes wishing that I feel better. I still have an awful cough but the worst I believe is over. Please take a moment and let me know what you think with a review.**

As he did most Saturdays in autumn, Harry lounged on his familiar sofa listening to the final Quidditch match of the season. Ginny's Harpies were faced against Puddlemore for the Cup. Harry felt more than a little guilty to be sitting here while Gabrielle was at the cottage. While the Veela knew where he was, he couldn't help knowing that he'd intentionally spent the afternoon away from his girlfriend to listen to a match that included a witch he still obviously cared about.

Today's match was longer than most and he'd had ample opportunity to nap through the lulls in the action. The same ear that would tweak when danger lurked nearby in the wilderness also served him during Quidditch matches and it was uncanny how he'd wake just as excitement would brew. Usually he wasn't truly sleeping anyway...he was lying back with his eyes closed visualising Leroy's detailed account of the action.

Leroy Jordan had long since taken on more serious endeavours than calling simple Quidditch matches. He anchored the evening news on the World Wizard Network. Without fail, half of the wizard families in England would sit around the wireless at half past seven as he offered his personal mixture of factual news and opinionated commentary regarding the day's events. He had become the most familiar voice in the wizard world.

Mister Jordan's lone guilty pleasure was calling Harpy Quidditch matches. To this day, he made it a point to clear his schedule for each and every Saturday match. With every snitch Ginny plucked from the sky it would be his voice that shouted, _"And their you have it! Whirlwind Weasley has snatched another snitch out of thin air to secure a much needed victory for her hometown Harpies!" _

Today, Leroy was going on and on about Gwenog's hand and how if it weren't for Puddlemore's former Chaser, the Harpies would be well ahead of everyone in points. _"The fact is, mates,"_ Leroy claimed, _"Puddlemore should not have been allowed to participate in the Finals. They should have been relegated to the Lower Division and forced to earn their way back to championship eligibility. Instead, the League committed a terrible injustice and Puddlemore is allowed to face a short-handed Harpies club in the final match for a chance at the Cup. Erm, pardon the pun."_

Harry nearly fell off his sofa in laughter. Poor Leroy was now tripping over himself with apologies. The reason for the commentary at all was that once again Gwenog was forced to end a match with only one hand on her bat. Nearly every match in the second half of the season she'd broken her prosthetic hand before the end of play. The officials had agreed that, despite protests, she'd be able to play with the prosthetic...but they drew the line when the Harpies asked that she be able to replace a broken hand in the middle of a match. Like a broom or any other piece of equipment, they decided, a player must complete the match with the equipment that he or she began with.

And so, Gwenog was flying the best she could with a stump of a hand tentatively guiding her broom. Her other hand held her bat. Meanwhile, the opposing Beaters were taking full advantage and Ginny was busy ducking bludgers while searching for the snitch. Conversely, the Puddlemore Seeker was all but unscathed. He was freely flying above the action as he leisurely watched his opponent duck and swerve. His only job, at the moment, was to block Ginny if she found the snitch too early.

"_Why is __**he**__ not searching more carefully for the snitch?"_ Leroy asked. _"He knows his mates need another 210 points to catch the Harpies for the Cup. He can only get 150 if he catches the snitch. Puddlemore needs to make up six more goals on the Harpies before he can truly take action. What early looked like a handy Harpy victory has quickly spun out of control since Miss Jones snapped her hand on a particularly hard hit bludger. At the time, the Harpies were ahead 90 to 50 and Isa Guerrero was busy filling up the hoops on the Puddlmore side of the pitch." _

"_Ever since Gwenog's unlucky break, Isa and Ginny both have both been harried by a constant barrage of bludgers and the Puddlemore Chasers have taken advantage by flying effortlessly to the Harpy goal. If there is one weakness with our hometown Harpies it is the goal keeping. The question remains, can Ginny keep her head long enough to find the snitch? WHOA! Ginny is spinning spinning spinning down to ground. She looks hurt. She was hit hard in the shoulder by a bludger. The Puddlemore Beater appears very proud of himself. Ginny's bowed over on her knees. It's hard to tell..." _

Harry unconsciously leaned toward the wireless as if Leroy would explain faster if he would only pay closer attention. Instead the young wizard jumped when an unexpected green flash glowed from the floo. Marianne's head peered through into the room, "Harry, may I drop in for a word?"

"_...Gwenog Jones has thrown off her lone glove..."_

Harry very much wanted to ask Marianne to return later but rarely did she drop in like this, "Come in, is everything all right?"

"_...Ginny seems to be straightening herself on her broom but she's holding her shoulder as if she's really hurt..."_

Marianne dusted herself off after stepping through the Floo. She could see Harry's attention was on the wireless, "I can come back..."

"No, no, no," Harry answered. "Just give me a second to listen."

"_...Gwenog is now chasing the Puddlemore Beater. She's tackled him to the grass! An official is offering her a warning. He's about to pull out a red card! He's stopped play! Everyone is headed for the grass to wait for play to resume..."_

"What's happening?" Marianne asked.

"Shhh.."

"_Gwenog has gone absolutely mad! She chased down the Beater that struck Miss Weasley and dragged him to the ground! An official is trying to pull her off of him but she keeps swinging and swinging. Madness has ensued as fistfights have broken out all across the pitch. The Puddlemore Seeker tried to strike the injured Miss Weasley but little bitty Isa sent him to the grass with a left hook. That Seeker will get his fair share of grief from his mates for that poor showing..."_

"What will they do? Will they call the match?" Marianne asked.

"Shhh!"

"_...They've finally dragged Gwenog off the opposing Beater. The crowd is in a frenzy and fists are flying in the stands. Meanwhile, the Puddlemore Seeker is scraping himself up off the pitch and he's returned to his broom. The Puddlemore Beater, however, is in no shape to return and he is being carted off..."_

"I can't believe..."

"Shhhh!" Harry begged her.

"_The officials have disqualified Gwenog. She looks downtrodden as she walks off the pitch. Wait! Just before she left she pointed to Ginny and threw up her stump of a hand as if to say, 'Go Get That Snitch!'"_

"_Ginny is still holding her shoulder gingerly as the match resumes but by all appearances Puddlemore's Seeker isn't any better off. It appears that with each club being a Beater short they are now once again much more evenly matched..." _

Harry seemed content with the state of the match. He finally turned his attention to Marianne, "I'm sorry, the match got a little stormy just as you arrived."

Marianne shook her head, "I'd say."

"So?"

"So," Marianne grinned, "I was offered the position!"

"Congratulations!" Harry summoned a few Butterbeers from the bar. Only half an ear was trained on the wireless now. It sounded as if the match had turned into a dull stalemate. Neither club was gaining on the other as the match entered its seventh hour of play.

Marianne sat quietly as he opened the bottles. She watched his face for a cue to speak. By the look of it, he'd lost interest in the match so she continued on, "I know you must have said something to the Minister because I have no qualifications."

"Bollocks!" Harry answered. "If anything you are too qualified. The Minister needs someone loyal to him and it's an added bonus that you have Auror training. That along with your organisational skills made you an easy candidate to choose."

"To keep his appointments?" Marianne asked. "I'm a glorified secretary."

"No," Harry argued. "He _has_ a secretary for that. We've spoken about this. The Undersecretary is the bloke who makes his schedule and decides if something is important enough for him to get involved in. Percy had the job and within a few years he had his own Department."

Marianne looked concerned, "That reminds me, how is he? Wasn't he supposed to be there the night of the attacks?"

"That evening he had been unable to attend and his assistant had taken his place. Frankly, I think the odds would have been more in our favour had Percy been there. He doesn't strike me as the type of wizard that would be Imperioused easily. He can be an arrogant prat at times but he has a mind for magic. And he has a good heart. Shhh..."

Leroy's voice had risen an octave, _"...She has the Puddlemore Seeker hot on her tail. I can't see it myself but she seems to have the snitch in her sights. She's still diving. She's gaining speed! She's going to hit the grass hard if she's not careful! Wait!"_

Marianne and Harry both leaned closer to the wireless.

"_...Oh My! The Red Riddler took her opponent for a ride! There was no snitch! She feigned as if she were chasing the snitch and then, at the last moment, she pulled out of her dive! I swear bristles from her broom grazed the grass! Her opponent hit the ground hard but seems to have rolled off his broom safely..."_

Marianne's partner's smile was contagious. She found herself rooting for the Harpies even though they weren't her favourite club. It didn't hurt that Ginny flew with such reckless abandon.

When the action quieted she tried to return to the subject, "Well, anyway, thank you. After what happened at the dance, I realised I needed to transfer out of Magical Law Enforcement. My husband worries that with his illness he wouldn't be able to care for Madeline on his own...and the bump in my weekly salary is enough to cover what he made at Cambridge."

"You keep implying I had something to do with it." Harry sipped from his Butterbeer, "How do you know it wasn't Ewan?"

"Because when he heard about it he nearly leapt out of his knickers!" Marianne laughed. "He grumbled he was going to look like the worlds worst Department Head because his conviction rate was going to plummet with both of us gone."

"He should have known it would happen eventually," Harry pointed out. "He's known for ages that I was growing tired. You hinted at reassignment more than once yourself. Besides, I feel England's finally reached a point where we'll have some peace in our lives. How many Aurors should we need?"

Marianne eyed Harry warily, "Don't say that. I've seen too many Administrations let down their guard and..."

She didn't get to finish her thought. Leroy Jordan was screaming, _"Ginny! She sees it! She's taken after the snitch with both hands on her broom. The Puddlemore Seeker, being made the fool once, seems uncertain whether to join the chase. She's gaining on it! It's within her grasp! Puddlemore realises his mistake too late and is swatting the air in anger. She has it! She has it! And there __**YOU**__ have it, my fellow Harpy Fans! Whirlwind Weasley has snatched another snitch out of thin air! __**Your**__ Holyhead Harpies have earned their Second Consecutive Quidditch League Championship! Harpies fans have stormed the pitch and the celebration has begun! Get out your champaign and Butterbeer! Another season of the British and Irish Quidditch League has come to a close!" _

Harry dragged Marianne off the sofa and did a little dance. He took a swig of his Butterbeer and threw up a fist. This was the time to celebrate! Soon, he'd dragged her to the Cauldron and he was purchasing rounds at the pub for anyone and everyone in attendance as they celebrated the dual occasion of a second Harpies' Cup and Marianne's promotion to Under-Secretary to the Minister.

**ZZZZZZZ**

On the third Wednesday of September, Henry returned to his cell from dinner to find an old text titled _Military Theory for Wizards_ hidden under his pillow. He opened the cover and found a Hogwarts Library stamp just above a copyright of 1940. It made sense. Hogwarts had created a special class that year for Fifth through Seventh Years teaching wizards how to fight as units if the dark wizard Grindelwald ever established a foothold on the islands.

Soon after Dumbledore defeated the dark wizard the lessons were quickly forgotten. The classes were discontinued and the text was relegated to the library. Henry was surprised that Voldemort had not trained his Death Eaters similarly because he'd certainly attended the classes. Then again, Tom Riddle didn't trust large organised groups. If they had fought as one, even the Death Eaters would have had a fighting chance against the dark wizard had they turned on him.

A week after the appearance of Henry's book, it was announced that children's play-wands would be allowed in the Southern Courtyard for use in a game meant to keep the prisoners exercised. The idea, as Eliza explained to the guards, was that active and entertained prisoners were less rowdy. The Captain of the Guard was on holiday until mid October and Eliza thought it might be good to experiment while he was gone.

The Guards began placing wagers on the winners of what quickly became known as the Daily Games. Groups of ten or twenty to a side would attack each other with their children's wands. The wands did little more than conjure a very slight stinging curse when the owner uttered the command "tag" and it only had a range of about ten yards. All the same, if the guards had spent less time making wagers and more time watching teams leaders, they'd have recognised that the groups of ten and twenty were practising military manoeuvres and not randomly playing games.

Sometimes the groups practised on an even field. Sometimes small buildings or obstructions were conjured up for the defenders and they played capture the flag. While many of the members of Path to Perfection had only a rudimentary knowledge of offensive and defensive spells, most knew basic stunners and disarming spells. Many even knew blasting spells and those that didn't were quietly shown the theory behind them.

By mid-October, Henry had passed down enough training to his followers that they could act as small or medium sized units and they could cast uncomplicated spells. By his count, he had one hundred and twelve men that he felt comfortable could fight by his side. These were divided into three basic groups:

Group A was made up of twenty-four blokes who were either former Aurors or had some sort of advanced offensive or defensive spell training. These were wizards he had his full confidence in.

Group B was made up of forty-four blokes with either some training or what he perceived as high aptitude for spell casting. They could cast stunners and shields and they'd shown well during the riots the previous months.

Group C was the final group of forty-four. While some of these wizards could have been a part of Group B, most were semi-skilled wizards who were as likely to curse their own noses off as they were to cast a proper illumination charm. These blokes he wouldn't count on for much more than strength in numbers.

Henry Dodson was no stupid wizard. Once Eliza had informed him of where Ginny would be and who the guest list was likely made up of, he knew that Path to Perfection's only chance for success was in sheer numbers and their discipline fighting as a unit. He was sure that one hundred and twelve would be enough. Not even thirty well trained wizards could hold off a hundred reasonably trained wizards if they had surprise on their side.

When the Captain of the Guard returned mid-October, Eliza found an excuse to confiscate the wands and shut down the Games. No sense the Captain seeing what was going on with his trained eye.

For two weeks they'd waited.

Then, Saturday the 27th, the day that the Harpies captured their Championship, Eliza signalled confirmation for the attack. Henry didn't know how they'd get off the island but he had faith in Eliza. That witch may be madder than a hatter but he had to admit that she was always both motivated and prepared.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Molly Weasley couldn't help but be the proudest mum in all of England. Tomorrow, October 30th, would be her birthday. Her daughter had just won the Quidditch Cup in heroic fashion and her youngest son was soon to provide her second grandchild. True, the baby was out of wedlock, but she was sure to remind all that complained that Ron and Hermione had been engaged well before the baby was a sparkle in their eye. With the way kids were these days, 'that was just as good.'

She'd sent out invitations to all of the family as well as select mates of Ron and Ginny and so far all but two had confirmed. Charlie had suffered a fall trying to wrangle a dragon and was recovering at a hospital in Romania. Gwenog sent a long letter regretting her absence but she was having surgery immediately in the States on her wrist. She hoped by beginning of the next Quiddditch Season that they'd have a proper prosthetic that could withstand the punishment of a full match of play.

The only person not invited was Molly's adopted son Harry. She absolutely wanted to give him an opportunity to reconcile with Ginny but she was well aware that this was the wrong time. Instead, she begged Bill and Fleur to say nothing about the party to him _or_ Gabrielle explaining that she didn't want Ginny to see him and bolt for the door. Fleur was happy to agree for her own reasons.

All of the invitations had gone out with the request that _not a word be breathed to anyone._

Molly smiled as she cleared the morning's dishes. Tomorrow would be a birthday Molly would remember for years to come. She was certain of it.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Molly wasn't the only one proudly admiring her handiwork.

Eliza had worn a pair of Victoria Mistre's new jeans underneath her robes for her flight to Azkaban that morning and they had easily held the 113 brooms that were now stacked neatly behind a false wall the witch had built the week before. Most of the brooms were cast-offs that she'd paid for out of her own pocket. She'd done this to avoid any suspicion to her involvement in the upcoming uprising. Raiding the Ministry broom closet would have been a dead give-away.

Needlings had been genius in hiring Hermione to design their pockets. Hermione might be a self righteous cow but she knew her way around an improvised expansion charm.

Once Eliza was sure the wands and brooms were well hidden, she made it a point to stomp upstairs to Henry's cell. As usual, he sat on the cot staring out the barred window that provided his only entertainment. For days at a time he'd watch the water crash over itself as the waves grew larger and larger on their way to the small island.

She smiled as she noted the guard that stood outside Henry's cell. Henry had been under constant surveillance for two weeks after she reported she was sure that he'd somehow been behind the attack on the Minister at the Extravaganza two months before. With the planning complete, it seemed reasonable to give the Ministry, and the island, the feeling that Path to Perfection was well watched and harmless.

"So Henry," her blue eyes blazed, "I'm off for the weekend. I don't want to hear that you caused any trouble while I was gone."

"Will you not be gracing us with your presence at lunch tomorrow?" Henry asked sarcastically. If he were pretending to hate her then he was doing a fair job if it.

"I can't be here all the time," she complained. "My closet needs cleaning. It's full of old wands and brooms from my days at Hogwarts. I might even fly over and visit the Burrow when I'm done. I hear Ginny will be there and maybe even a few of her Harpy mates. You remember them, eh? The ones your incompetent henchmen tried to knock off but instead they bungled the job?"

"Ha!" Henry countered, "From what I hear that was a personal spat between one of her old mates and the club. I did hear that Gwenog spent the remainder of the season relearning how to wield a bat."

Eliza slapped the former Auror hard across the face. The **'thwack!'** caused a giggle from outside the cell.

"Are you sure you want to leave for holiday?" Henry asked as he rubbed his cheek...he spoke just loud enough for the guard to hear. "Without you here, we might just take the entire island and finish what was started at the Burrow."

"You don't have the stones for it," she goaded, "or the wands." By now they were sure the guard was listening closely and Eliza too had raised her voice to assure every word could be heard outside the cell, "Even if you could take the island you wouldn't be able to get off of it. It's not like there'll be a boat waiting for you. You'd need at least a hundred brooms. And then, even if you were to get off the island, you'd be facing at least thirty well trained wizards at the Burrow...thirty two by my count. It's a party, you idiot, for Molly Weasley. You don't think you can take on thirty wizards, do you?"

"I can dream, can't I?" Henry asked.

"Let me make one thing clear," Eliza knocked for the guard as she reached the cell door, "If you were to do any more than dream, you'd better succeed or otherwise I'd personally hunt you down and kill you myself."

As the guard opened the door, Henry spat, "I'd expect nothing less. I'll see you on the outside."

The door shut. Eliza decided to make a good show of it. She took the guard to the side, "I think he's up to something. I'm tempted to stay here for the weekend, after all. We might even need to double the guard."

"Oh, No!" The guards had planned a weekend poker game but if Eliza stayed she'd have them working double shifts. The guard chose her words carefully for the Auror, "Don't even consider it. I think he's all talk. He's been threatening the Captain for months now. You have your holiday and we'll be here when you get back. I'll make sure the Captain knows you're concerned and I'll be extra vigilant here.

Eliza smiled wickedly, "If you say so."

The Poker Tournament had been Eliza's idea. She'd mentioned quietly to her bunkmate that she was leaving for holiday the week before. She wondered aloud if the guards might try to sneak in a poker evening while she was gone, "I don't put up with that nonsense when _**I'm**_ here." That had been two weeks before.

Now, as her boots clacked down the steps, she checked the final item off her mental checklist. Henry now knew for sure where Ginny would be, how many wizards would be facing him, and where the brooms could be found once he and his followers overtook the guards. All that remained was for her to get off the island so that she wasn't in the way.

She wished she could hazard an evil cackle like in the cinemas. The tower's acoustics would be so perfect for it.

**ZZZZZZZ**

The sickeningly sweet fumes nearly overcame him as they billowed out of the crevices in the marble. Harry didn't know why but the fumes were much thicker today than usual. The resulting fog made it difficult for him to know for sure that he was turned in the right direction. He took it on faith that he was walking toward the altar.

His faith had been well placed. The outline of a young lady could soon be seen through the haze. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried to fan the haze away, he couldn't see more than shadows.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hello," answered a familiar voice.

"I'm here to ask a question," Harry said.

"You only get once answer," the voice reminded him.

"But," Harry stood there exasperated, "But, I need to know."

"You already know the answer to that question," the voice answered.

"No, I don't," Harry insisted.

"Then how come you keep searching me out? How come you keep looking for me?" the Oracle pushed the fog away and Harry could clearly see Ginny sitting in the now familiar blood red robes, "If it's not me that you want then why don't you just get on with it? What are you doing listening to my matches when you can be in Delphi right now with that other witch?"

"Because," Harry shouted, "I need to know whether I should move on."

Ginny sat there calmly, "Love, can you honestly tell me that the sum of all the time you've spent with that Veela even equals a tenth of the feelings you've felt in one moment that we've spent together? Has anything she has ever done equalled to one kiss we've shared?"

Harry stood there thinking about it.

"I think you have your answer."

Harry's eyes blinked open. It had only been a dream. Casting a sad eye on the Veela beside him, he considered the reason for the dream.

He'd visited the Oracle in Delphi the day after his meeting with Aphrodite. The Oracle hadn't said a word. She just sat there silently as he repeated his questions over and over again. Despite the temptation to climb the steps and provoke her physically, he knew there was little good that would come of it. Eventually he left the temple and he succumbed to knowledge that there was little more that he could do besides confront Ginny herself.

Harry had tried. He'd sent an owl as soon as he returned to England asking Ginny to meet him. That owl post, and several others, were returned to Harry unopened.

Soon the dreams began. Each evening he had a similar dream with Ginny goading him on. He couldn't understand...all he wanted was a simple thing. There was no denying that he'd always loved Ginny. All he wanted was for her to release him if she didn't love him back. Instead, all he got for his troubles was no answer at all. How could he spend the rest of his days in limbo waiting?

Eventually he gave up on any reply from Ginny. Instead, he decided to rely on the one person who could definitely tell him whether Ginny loved him. The night before he'd sent an owl to Lavender letting her know he desperately needed her to answer some questions for him and that he'd be there the following afternoon. Now he waited for her answer.

He was already sure what Lavender would tell him...so sure in fact that he'd already begun making arrangements. He'd written a carefully worded letter to the Minister resigning his position at the Ministry. Another letter had been sent to Antiones asking him to prepare the new Villa for their arrival mid-November. Tomorrow he had an appointment at Gringotts to begin the process of transferring much of his estate to a trust which would be operated by Hermione to fund many of the non-profit organisations that she normally recommended. As it stood, his plan was to keep a cool million Galleons for himself. He couldn't see how he'd ever spend more than that living in Greece.

His greatest regret was leaving Hermione and Ron...but he knew they had each other. Also, this was the perfect time. With a new baby, he was sure they'd barely miss him.

Harry's stomach reminded him that it was time for breakfast. He slipped out of bed...careful not to wake the beautiful witch beside him. Tiptoeing down the steps, he made his way to the kitchen. Winky must have anticipated his coming. When he opened the kitchen door she announced cheerfully, "G'Mornin', Master Harry. Winky has eggs for Master Harry if he'll have a seat."

"Thanks Winky!"

Before he had a chance to sit, though, a hoot came from the closed window. He rushed to the unlatch it. As it opened he remarked, "Just the one I was waiting for!"

"Who?" the owl asked.

"You, of course," Harry answered with a grin. He rubbed the little owl's ear after he untied the string binding the folded parchment to her leg.

He read the note:

_30 October 2012_

_Harry,_

_I'd rather you wait until tomorrow to come. I fear I know what you are going to ask and I suspect the answer will be much clearer in the morning._

_Woefully,_

_Hecate_

Tomorrow? No, he wanted closure today. She obviously knew what he wanted to ask and she likely knew why. Now that he sure Ginny wasn't going to speak to him, he wanted reassurance from the one person who could tell him for certain that Ginny had moved on. If he could get her to look into the present, or even the near past, then he could be released from this dreadful oath he'd stupidly made and he could move on. Preferably he would never see or hear Ginny's name again. If he'd realised earlier on that this whole business of him pining for Ginny had been his own doing, then he'd have confronted her much sooner.

An instant later, when Winky brought him his eggs, he'd already begun to have second thoughts. What if Ginny hadn't forgotten him? What if she'd also pined her life away waiting for him? What if he was the one who was giving up too soon?

He really needed to see Lavender today. He couldn't bear this back and forth any more. He didn't like this person he'd become...he felt weak and indecisive and even whiny. He was going to take charge of this whole thing and one way or the other he was going to move on with his life - today.

**ZZZZZZZ**

There are bridges that once crossed cannot be uncrossed.

Lavender watched sadly as the events of the day transpired before her. She'd feared this day for months and she'd hoped time and again that her guiding hand could either avoid it altogether or make the pain less for all. Each time she placed a thought in someone's head it only deferred the inevitable.

What was worse was that she had unknowingly crossed a bridge of her own that kept her from being able to have direct contact with those she loved. Oh, sure, she could go out as this bedraggled mess of a crone but then her mates would see her true self and they'd pity her. She'd rather them remember her for who she had been rather than who she'd become. Ugly. Obscene. Profane.

But then again, what would it matter if they were all dead?

Lavender watched helplessly as all of the dreams and visions played out as if she'd made no effort to help at all. That morning, Azkaban had been overrun by Henry and his followers. They killed every last person on the island before they left by broom. The old brooms belonging to Eliza had all manner of irregularities so, as some veered left and others veered right, the group left the island looking much like a swarm of locusts.

As the day wore on, she prepared for Harry's arrival. He'd seen her response to his letter and though it was cloudy, it was obvious he was undeterred. She didn't know exactly how it would play out but she'd had more than one dream where he'd threatened her life. She was afraid to give him too much information...if she told him too much then it would turn out all wrong. He could only save so many of his mates.

By the time the sun had set and darkness had fallen, she began to wait with anticipation for the inevitable knock on the door. Anticipation soon gave way to dread.

By now the home of the Weasley's was already being surrounded. She could see the shadows on each side of the property. Inside, the merry folk had already begun to eat and drink. Hermione and Ron had just arrived by floo and she looked ready to burst. Molly had taken care not to do anything to startle the young witch for fear she'd give birth prematurely. Instead, Molly pointed to a sign wishing the young couple a happy delivery.

Lavender watched inwardly from her chair as guest after guest filed by wishing Ron and Hermione their Congratulations. Molly. Arthur. Bill. Fleur. Little Victoire. Percy. His date. George and Angelina. Isa. Neville. Padma. Seamus. Oh...Seamus.

One by one the visitors filed by wishing their best until the final one brought on a reaction so great from Hermione that she had to be taken to a chair. Ginny had been lying in wait - in hiding – to surprise her brother Ron. Ron had thrown his arms around his sister but Hermione became inconsolable. In a panic she made for the floo but the family would have nothing of it. They begged her to stay.

Hermione began shouting. She insisted that all of them needed to leave immediately. Something terrible was supposed to happen at the Burrow. She asked them to come with her to Harry's and they'd have the party there. Please? Please?

Ron tossed a pinch of powder into the Floo in order to guide his hysterical wife out of the Burrow but there was no flash to be found.

It was too late. Eliza had hours before secured the letterhead of an employee of the Department for Magical Transport. She'd forged a requisition asking that the floo to the Burrow be disconnected at exactly ten past seven for six hours while maintenance be performed. The work order was processed and the disconnection was performed with the deathly efficiency that the Shacklebolt Administration had become famous for.

**KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!**

Lavender's eyes opened. No longer would she be the spectator. Now her own role in this sad tragedy would begin.

**ZZZZZZZ**

"Tell me! I need to know!"

Lavender couldn't give in too soon. He had to come to his decision by himself. She knew this.

Gabrielle sat in a chair at the table between Lavender and Harry. The Veela wanted to help, "Harry, maybe she doesn't know." No longer was Lavender the pretty girlfriend of Seamus. According to Harry, she'd been like this the whole time. Gabrielle shivered when she looked at the raggedly misshapen crone.

Harry had explained everything on the way. He'd inadvertently found out that he had somehow been jinxed...or something...into loving Ginny. The only way the spell would lift is if he knew for sure that Ginny did not share his love. Gabrielle was a hopeful as anyone that Ginny didn't love Harry but she couldn't see the point of harassing this witch if _she _didn't know.

The young wizard looked deeply into Lavender's eyes, "No, she knows. For some reason she doesn't want to tell me."

"I _can't_ tell you," Lavender answered weakly. "If I do it will just make things worse."

"How could you possibly make things worse?" Harry answered angrily. "It seems your gift has been no more helpful to me than Trelawney's. You couldn't warn me about Ron being Imperioused. Or the identity of the intruder in the Forbidden Forest. Or about the fact that Eliza was shagging half of England while she was dating me."

He stood up and began pacing. Lavender remembered what would come next.

He stopped and turned, "Perhaps you could have warned me about Shacklebolt's assassination? Even the attempt on Ginny's life would have been nice? Perhaps a little heads up about having to carve some poor old witch's heart out of her body?"

He stepped over to the table Lavender and Gabrielle were sitting at and and tossed it. It and everything on it went flying in the air. Lavender had already backed away. Gabrielle had tea splash all over her jumper but didn't dare say a word.

Harry towered over Lavender, "I'm sick of you warning me about trivial rubbish and then holding back the important stuff! Why can't you just tell me whether Ginny loves me or not? It's just one tiny insignificant thing."

Lavender closed her eyes. The Weasleys were still inside the Burrow debating what to do. Hermione had been given a calming draught so that she didn't panic and miscarry. Bill was promising the others that he'd placed wards on the Burrow months before protecting it even if it were struck by _fifty_ fireballs at the same time. Little did he know that in less than ten seconds' time there'd be a hundred so called fireballs travelling their way. Arthur opened the front door just as the volley started and quickly shut it again when he saw the streaks of flame, "Everybody **GET DOWN!**"

"Say something!" Harry shouted.

"I can't!" Lavender sobbed back.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"I told you before," she sobbed. "_You_ must choose. Do you not remember? Tonight is the night you _must_ make your choice. I can't make it for you."

"What are you talking about?" Harry exclaimed. "Everything is a riddle with you."

"Remember that day near the lake at Hogwarts? I said word for word that day, 'Eventually you will need to choose between a chance at true love or a life of certain happiness. I can only tell you that if you choose wrong then you will lose nearly all that you now hold dear.'"

Lavender closed her eyes and watched. Arthur had been knocked unconscious by the blast as had several others. Bill and Ron were barking out orders. Seamus and Percy were sent with Bill to the rooms upstairs to fight from the windows above. Bill took Fleur and Victoire with him, assuring them that the upper floors would remain intact for as long as the lower floors did. Ron stayed with Hermione downstairs and corralled George and Angelina to the windows. Hermione was calm but unable to focus.

Time was running out. Lavender needed Harry to take action, "Look, you _must_ choose between loving a witch that provides no guaranty that she will love you back or a witch that can promise you lifelong happiness but can certainly never love you. If you choose love then you will likely save most of your friends and family. If you choose happiness I can promise you will have happiness for the rest of your days but it is certain you will lose all of those closest to you."

"And explain to me _why_ I must make this decision?" Harry asked.

"Because!" Lavender shouted, "I said so!"

Harry turned and looked helplessly at Gabrielle. He knew which choice was which by now. He knew that Gabrielle was happiness. He just couldn't understand why if he chose her he'd never be able to love her. Would they be in a perpetual state of no man's land where Ginny refused to relinquish her love and he could never love Gabrielle? Would they be forced to never marry so that they'd be stuck in this rut where they could never truly love each other and have children? What was the missing piece to the riddle? _Every_ riddle had an answer. If he could only solve the riddle he'd know what he was supposed to do.

And what about Ginny? Lavender intentionally said that she may never love him back. He could love her forever with no promise of happiness.

Lavender closed her eyes and watched blast after blast hit the Burrow. Groans could be heard as the structure began to lean to the side ever so slightly. She could see the occasional attacker in the shadows fall to one of Bill's or Seamus's stunners. Bill was beginning to grow impatient. This was his daughter and wife that was being attacked. He asked Seamus, "Would you use dark magic if you knew it would save your family's life?" Seamus responded sarcastically, "I'd perform the killing curse on myself if I thought it'd save my family." Bill was sceptical, "I'm not so sure you would." Bill could see well over forty shadows out there. He decided to send the curse near enough to them that hopefully it would drive them away. He began the ritual and gathered the fire necessary for the Fiendfyre Curse. As he completed the spell he was struck unconscious by a stunner pointed at his window. The resulting Fiendfyre went blazing out of control and caught two of the men in the shadows in it's path. It also dispersed Group B who went running for cover. Unconscious or not, at least Bill had slowed down the attack from one side of the house.

"Wait!" Harry jarred her, "What is the business about my family and my mates?"

"You will lose them, Harry." Gabrielle answered for Lavender. "She said you'd lose them."

Gabrielle had already played the entire scenario out in her mind. She knew how Harry would eventually answer. It was one of the reasons she loved him.

"You mean they won't speak to me any more because I chose against Ginny? Or do you mean I'll lose them dead?" Harry asked.

It was growing dire at the Burrow. The top floors were leaning precariously and could tumble at any time. Still, Lavender refused to say any more. She couldn't. If she did, then Harry would overreact and be dead himself. Then they'd all be dead. Every soul in the house.

Gabrielle answered for her, "You have to choose Ginny, Harry! They'll all be _**dead**_! Can't you possibly see it in her face?"

"Why can't _**you**_ say it?" Harry asked Lavender.

"She said so herself," Gabrielle answered. "She just can't. You have to go."

"Where?" Harry asked.

Gabrielle had put it all together in a matter of moments. Fleur and Bill had been discussing a party as she'd walked in a few days before. Something about the Burrow. By the look on Lavender's face something very, very bad was happening and Harry was so worked up over this business between her and Ginny that he just couldn't see it. She knew from Harry that Molly's birthday had been coming up, "There's a party at the Burrow, Harry. You've got to go and tell Ginny you love her!"

Harry looked at the two of them blankly.

"Hurry!" Gabrielle shouted. I don't know why but it's important you do it now!"

Harry tried the floo but when he called out "The Burrow!" but there was no flash.

"Apparate there, Harry!" Gabrielle begged him.

Gabrielle's panic was just enough to jar him into action. He dashed for the door and let it slam behind him.

Lavender had always fancied Gabrielle more. Ginny loved Harry. Lavender knew it in her heart. But Gabrielle was willing to give up Harry for his happiness.

Now that Harry was gone, Gabrielle broke into tears. If only the poor Veela knew. It wasn't as bad as she thought. Lavender had taken great pains to make sure that Harry ended up with the right witch. Still, how was Gabrielle to know?

Lavender tried to console her, "It's not so bad as you think."

"He chose **_her_**," Gabrielle answered through the tears.

"Most certainly he did not," Lavender reminded her. "He chose to save his family and his friends."

"But he still loves_** her**_," Gabrielle sniffed.

"Of course he does," Lavender smiled. "But soon it won't matter. I made him wait long enough that no matter which choice he made he'd certainly be with you."

"What?" The Veela didn't understand. "How?"

"Harry loves Ginny. That much is true," Lavender explained, "But if she dies and he ends up with you then he'll be much happier. His future with Ginny was cloudy and dark. They'd love each other but...their marriage would create a darkness all around England..."

"How?" Gabrielle asked, "How is she supposed to die?"

"They are all surrounded. She'd going to try to fly one of the little girls out by broom. They will be struck down and crash to the ground. A wizard finds them and kills them while she's unconscious."

Gabrielle couldn't believe what she was hearing, "There's only one child that I know of that ever visits the Burrow."

Lavender realised she'd said too much. She should have just left well enough alone. Carefully, she tried to edge over to where Harry had thrown her wand. It was too late, though. Gabrielle's wand was already out.

The crone knew she was beat. By the look in Gabrielle's eyes she knew she'd stop at nothing to help her niece. There was no way she'd stay here and sit idly by as her family died.

Lavender knew there was still one chance. Gabrielle would remain with Harry if she followed Lavender's instructions precisely, "Follow Harry wherever he goes. He will protect you. Keep an eye out in the sky. If you see your sister then follow her. She'll need you to take her and Victoire to the property's edge so you can apparate her out."

"Ok," Gabrielle answered.

"You must reach Harry before he reaches the gate. Take my broom." Lavender pointed.

Before Gabrielle got too far away, Lavender shouted "Wait!"

Gabrielle looked back.

"There's one more thing you must do!" Lavender begged. "Promise me."

Gabrielle listened. It was simple enough. Lavender explained and sent the Veela on her way.

Once the Veela was gone, Lavender returned to watching the action in her mind. A huge blast forced the upper floors of the Burrow to topple over. Tonight Harry would be provoked into doing the most terrific and terrible thing that he would ever do. She hated knowing that she was complicit in driving him to do this awful thing but it was for the greater good. She was certain of it.


	47. TP The Molly's Day Massacre

**Chapter 47 – The Molly's Day Massacre**

**Submitted: Sunday 20 Jan 2013 Prev. Submission: Thur 17 Jan 2013**

**SPOILER ALERT: If you have not read since Wednesday then stop now. The previous chapter was submitted three days ago on Thursday.**

**A/N: If you were looking forward to this chapter then you have Abb12 to thank for its early arrival. I originally planned to edit it over the weekend and post it on Wednesday. His kind review inspired me to stay up late the last two evenings and finish editing this chapter. Amazingly, I've worked on this for eleven hours tonight but it is finally done. I'll post it in the morning.**

Ginny's entire left side ached from the fall. With each blast of fireballs, the upper floors of the Burrow had been pushed more and more off-centre. It had only been a matter of time until the upper floors resembled a top prepared to topple over...and then it finally did.

She knew Bill and Seamus had been up there with them but she couldn't see them or anyone else. All that was left of the upper floors was a mess of stone strewn along the ground. Despite the knowledge that she could be overtaken by attackers at any time, she began sorting through the stone. She had to find Victoire and her mum. It didn't take long, a muffled voice could be heard shouting in French. Ginny, instinctively reached for her wand and thankfully it was there.

Once she'd levitated several stones out of the way, Ginny could see that Fleur and her daughter had been trapped in a pocket of space. Only the Veela's arm was pinned underneath a stone. Ginny was easily able to lift it with her wand before pulling Fleur out of the rubble. Though she was worried for the others that could still be underneath, Ginny knew she didn't have enough time to go digging for more, "We need to get you and Victoire out of here."

Fleur looked read to protest but she knew Ginny was right. If they waited any longer, they'd likely be overrun. Fleur knew that Bill would never forgive her if Victoire was in any way injured because she'd wasted precious time searching for her husband.

Looking left and right, Ginny knew there was little chance they'd clear the entire distance between the Burrow and the property line on foot. If only she had brought her broom. The Weasley girl got an idea, "Accio Broom."

An ages old Cleansweep that she and her brothers had flown as children came sidewinding its way toward them. Never very reliable in a match, it was slow and it would veer off to the left when it was ridden with any kind of speed. All the same, it was still at least five times as fast as running.

She mounted the broom and beckoned Fleur to climb on behind her. Fleur took one look at the broom and shook her head. It was no more than a worn out broomstick with frayed string loosely binding a mop of ragged looking straw at the end. "I am not getteeng on that broom with my leetle girl," she insisted, "one good weend would rip eet apart.." Victoire was still wrapped tightly around Fleur and she looked no more confident in the worn out contraption than her mum.

"It's all we have," Ginny insisted. "I fly for a living and I've flown this broom oodles of times. It'll make it."

The crashes around them were much more convincing than Ginny could ever be. The Veela quickly reconsidered, and finally, she tossed her daughter on the broom before she kicked her own foot over the edge. With her daughter sandwiched between them, Fleur wrapped her arms tightly around her sister-in-law. The little girl whimpered as she held her mum in a vice.

The Cleansweep heaved itself up in the air with a kick. Ginny tried to rise vertically so that they were lost in the night sky. Often she'd pull this ruse when she and her brothers would sneak out to play Quidditch at night. She'd try to lose herself with her black robes up high and sneak back under them with the Quaffle in hand.

Fortunately, it looked like they'd made a clean getaway. So much focus was on the ground that no-one had bothered to look up. Even so, the fighting was so furious below that streaks and flashes of all colours could be seen on all sides of the Burrow. Soon the inhabitants would be overtaken by the greater numbers and it wouldn't be long before...she didn't want to think about it.

They were already halfway to the edge of the property when clouds came rushing toward them from every direction. The winds picked up and blew right at them. She looked frantically around below her and she saw where the trouble was coming from. Harry was standing next to Hermione, who was lying on the ground, and he was doing something odd. Fleur risked pointing down, "There ees Gabrielle!"

The Cleansweep was not strong enough to fight the winds. With three passengers, the old broom began to creak. Ginny, knowing something was wrong, worked her way down in case they'd have to land. By the time they'd passed Harry and Hermione the wind had picked up furiously and they ducked lower and lower. By now they were no more than thirty feet high in the air. Gabrielle pointed them out to Harry and waved as they flew by.

Unfortunately, someone else saw them as well. From far away, a carefully aimed stunner hit Ginny right in the chest. As the broom veered left, all three of the witches tumbled hard to the ground.

ZZZZZZZZZZ

When Harry arrived he'd been prepared for something awful. Gabrielle's panic had been enough to tell him something was very wrong. He still wasn't prepared for just how awful it was. There were fires all around the Burrow. Large groups of shadows could be seen lurking around the property. The Burrow was already leaning precariously on the edge of the bottom floor so that it reminded him of the story of _The_ _Old Woman and the Shoe. _Once every thirty seconds or so a fresh volley of fireballs would fly high into the air before striking the Burrow on its side. The upper section would groan as it was nudged another few inches off centre. It couldn't be long before it collapsed.

Was that Hermione? She was running his way. He signalled for Gabrielle to follow as he raced to his mate, "What's happening?"

Hermione fought desperately to catch her breath. When she could finally talk she began to ramble, "It...it's horrible!" She pointed behind her. "They're everywhere. It must be a hundred of them!"

"Who?" Harry asked.

"I Don't Know!" Hermione answered frantically. Her eyes were wild. "I left with Ron and Marianne. Ron made a diversion for us to sneak through but we were ambushed by a some blokes just a few moments ago. Marianne insisted I keep going and she...I don't know!"

"Why did Ron..?" That's right. The baby. Harry looked down at Hermione to check her over but other than being out of breath she looked fine.

"Harry!" Gabrielle pointed at two blokes but it was too late. A bolt of blue struck Hermione in the back and she fell into him. He tried to hold her up as he fired off the first thing that came to his mind. A silent ball of fire shot from his wand and exploded between them...sending both blokes to the ground. Harry didn't dare look. It had been a reflex.

A groan was heard and the upper portion of the Burrow crashed to the ground. Gabrielle tried in vain not to scream.

Harry knelt down to check out Hermione. He knew he couldn't leave everyone else just to get her to safety, "We need help and fast."

With his wand he summoned his messengers, "Expecto Patronum!" Seven grand stallions began to circle Harry as they waited for instructions. "We need help at the Burrow! There is an attack! At least a hundred!" The stallions galloped off in all different directions before quickly disappearing with his messages.

"Hermione," Harry asked, "Are you ok?" No answer. He used what few spells he knew to check on her condition but all he could tell was that she was breathing shallowly. He knew the baby was pretty far along. He could only hope it was safe.

Gabrielle shook his shoulder, "We need to go help."

Harry refused to leave the side of his mate. Remembering the weather spell he'd practised many a time, he thought it might at least slow down the enemy's approach until reinforcements arrived. He'd lost control of the last storm he'd created and it had caused massive damage in Southern England the year before.

He didn't have time to worry that. He began the chant that he'd memorised months before and placed his hands high in the air as he tried to gather the clouds in the clear sky. It took a few moments but clouds began to appear. The wind picked up to a gentle breeze as the clouds grew thicker and thicker. Soon the gusts grew into larger and larger bursts and rain began to fall lightly to the ground.

As Gabrielle looked up in the sky she saw her sister and Ginny on a broom. The young Veela noticed that Ginny was trying to bring the broom down some and wondered if the wind was interfering in some way. Gabrielle waved at her sister who hazarded to point down at her, "Look Harry! It's Fleur!"

Harry looked up where Gabrielle pointed. Unfortunately so did a prowler who'd been sneaking up on Harry and his mates. The clever wizard had been watching along the property line for runners to ambush. He'd missed Harry's arrival but when the wind picked up he noticed the clouds gathering and decided to check out where they were coming from.

Only yards behind Harry and ready to strike from behind, the wizard suddenly found Gabrielle pointing up to the sky at a much more enticing target. There, not too high, was Ginny on a broom with a witch he didn't recognise. Henry Dodson, the former Auror, smiled a toothy smile before he lifted his wand and took careful aim. He released one well place red flash and struck Ginny dead in the chest.

His first confirmation of success was a scream from Harry's camp. Unfortunately, this was enough of a distraction that he didn't see Ginny and her mates swerve to the left before falling to the ground. Knowing he'd lost the element of surprise, he decided Ginny was a much more attractive target than Harry. He slowly but nimbly hiked through the bush – the wrong way. 'If I'm lucky,' Henry thought to himself, 'Ginny'll still be alive and I can see the light leave her eyes when I snuff her soul from her body.'

Harry had seen Ginny and her passengers tumble but didn't see why. He was about to dash after them but the wind grew uneven and the clouds began losing their shape. He looked over at Hermione who, even in the moonlight, was ghastly grey. She needed help soon.

"Go find Ginny and Fleur!" Harry instructed Gabrielle. "Do what you can for them but be careful. There's no telling what's out there!"

Gabrielle nodded and ran for her sister. It was dark enough out there that she didn't quite have her bearings but she stopped just long enough to search for her sister in her head. Not perfect, but as close as she was to her sister she could sometimes read her emotions and when they were younger she'd learned to tell approximately which direction her sister was just by where the emotion was coming from. At the moment she couldn't feel her sister...but her niece was in terrible pain and it was enough to give Gabrielle an idea where she was. She sprinted after the tiny Veela hoping the others were close by.

Meanwhile, Harry watched as Hermione began to convulse. He tried a calming spell but it did nothing. With a terrible jerk she rolled over on her side and once again fell limp. Every instinct in his body told him to carry her to the edge of the property so he could apparate her to St. Mungo's but he heard screams from the Burrow. He knew that those within were not far from being overwhelmed.

Harry raised his hands again and tried to reclaim the clouds that had begun to disperse. He thought back and tried to remember that afternoon when he'd read that book of Hermione's straight through in one sitting. He closed his eyes and chanted as he remembered reading the book while Gabrielle had lied their sleeping in his lap. The memory calmed him and he began to visualize the spell as he had that day.

Soon the wind swirled with gusts even stronger than before. The clouds gathered thickly in the sky as he imagined a rainstorm. He found that the angrier he let himself get – the thicker the clouds became. When he heard Hermione rustle he grew even angrier and for the first time there was bolt of lightning.

Within moments lightning was crashing down with regularity and rain was falling in thick heavy waves. The wind threatened to blow even him down but being that he was the eye of the storm it swirled around him like a cyclone.

Remembering the images of himself from when he read the book, he began to play the storm like a symphony. In one hand was the Hazel Wand. The other was an empty hand that guided the wind and aimed the strikes. The Hazel Wand began gathering energy from its sister the Elder...which lie quietly in his mate's pocket. The result was that the storm grew even more powerful. It wasn't long before he noticed that he could see the Burrow through the storms eyes – it was as if he were looking from the clouds above.

Harry focused on the Burrow. As he got a true grasp of the wreckage of the home he'd loved as a boy, he grew angrier and angrier. He watched as a bloke stood over Seamus in the rubble ready to strike. With only his will, Harry guided a bolt of lighting down at the attacker and the wizard crumpled to the ground roughly as a blackened corpse. Harry stood in horror at what he'd done but was overcome by anger as Seamus fell limply to the ground at the hands of another attacker. Another bolt of hot white lightning struck down the second attacker.

He began searching for more intruders. As he found them, he threw streak after streak of white death at them and one by one they collapsed. Harry began to feel stronger and stronger than he ever had. First it was a dozen and then another four or so. Another twelve here. Another six there. Soon, the Burrow appeared cleansed of attackers.

Through the storm's eye he could see his mates and family look up at the sky. Some were thankful. Others feared they might be struck too. Only one truly comprehended what was going on. He felt an entirely different type of worry from his mate Bill. He didn't have much time to consider what Bill was so worried about. Harry was brought out of his trance by a hard shake of the shoulder by Shacklebolt, "What in bloody hell are you doing?"

Shacklebolt! Harry's anger evaporated. Relief overcame the young wizard and he threw his arms around his mate the Minister.

The torrential downpour quickly lightened to a soft rain. The winds calmed and the skies quieted.

The Minister repeated, "What is going on?"

The young wizard tried to gather his thoughts, "We need to get Hermione to safety! She was hit by a curse and she's pregnant!"

Shacklebolt was dumbfounded, "What?"

"The house was overrun! I'm not sure who's left in there! And I'm sure there's at least a hundred blokes with wands out here trying to kill us!"

"We got your message, Harry. I sent everyone I could. Whomever was at the Ministry at the time. They've been instructed to stun anyone they see and ask questions later. They're doing their magic as we speak."

Harry dropped to his knees. He was looking at Hermione who was barely breathing. It wasn't a moment more before he was pushed aside by healers.

"Let them do their job, Harry," Shacklebolt instructed. He didn't have to. Harry sat and watched with a blank stare as he tried to recover from the shock of it all. He hadn't considered that she might have been followed. If he'd abided by his training she'd be ok. Sure, he'd cast that spell and held the blokes off. He'd even struck a few of the buggers down afterwards but it didn't keep Hermione by getting struck unnecessarily.

"Where did you learn that spell, Harry?" Shacklebolt asked.

"What?" Harry still watched his mate intently as the healers passed their wands over her and chanted unfamiliar spells. One had her on a sort of cot and they were readying her to be moved back to St. Mungo's.

"I SAID," Shacklebolt again shook him to get his attention, "Where Did You Learn That Spell?"

Harry tried shaking the webs out of his head, "Hermione taught it to me. It's pretty powerful magic. She found it in a book she'd bought a while back."

"Yeah, it's pretty powerful magic, all right," the Minister answered. He looked around the property where bolts of light were now flying from all directions. He wondered what the extent of the damage would be. This battle was nowhere near over and it looked as if the intruders intended to fight to the death. He'd been told less than an hour before that Path to Perfection had overrun the guards and escaped Azkaban en masse. It took little deduction from the Minister that none of the attackers had any desire to return to Azkaban to complete their sentences. For many, the stand would be here and it would be bloody.

The Minister summoned his own Patronus and sent message after message to the different Departments for the Ministry. Asking for any volunteers to help end the battle, he summoned any and all that were loyal to him to come and fight. As he summoned his fourth Patronus, he heard Harry shout, "Ginny!"

"What?" the Minister asked.

Harry had seen a flash of green light of toward where Ginny and Fleur had crashed. In all of the commotion he'd gotten caught up in the attack and then he was in shock and the next thing...Harry'd forgotten all about them! Harry ran and ran for what seemed like forever.

"Where are you going?" Shacklebolt initially called out as Harry began running after the streak of light. Soon he was following as quickly as he could from behind.

"Ginny! Ginny!" Harry kept running as he shouted. Shacklebolt was already winded. By now the rain had soaked into the ground and it was a sloppy mess. Kingsley tried to keep up but he slipped and found himself covered in mud. Harry kept running. He called out again, "Ginny!" He knew she had to be nearby. He knew the green streak had come from near here.

When he reached the clearing he found what he'd hoped against all hope of finding. Eliza was crouched over Gabrielle with the poor girl lying limp in her arms. Gabrielle looked so young and sweet and the crimson was just beginning to leave her cheeks.

Eliza looked up at him with hair shoved everywhere and tears streaming from her eyes, "I tried to save her Harry!"

The Auror's face and arms were scraped and torn. Her hair was matted. A watery mixture of blood and rain streamed down her face as her open wounds gushed. Harry dropped to his knees. Eliza handed the lifeless body of this beautiful girl whom he'd adored. He was now sure he'd almost loved the Veela as much as Ginny. Harry held her tightly to him.

"What In Bloody Hell, Harry?!" Shacklebolt shouted as he reached the clearing. It only took the Minister a moment to regain his composure. He stood quiet as he watched his mate sob over the body of his girlfriend. Eliza crouched on her knees beside him and held him tenderly as he mourned.

Fighting could still be heard all around. The Minister shared a look with Eliza and decided she had the scene under control. He raced off to rally the troops.

Eliza didn't mind staying and watching over her former boyfriend. She'd always known that he'd eventually need her again. Given the right set of circumstances it was inevitable.

It took a while before spoke or even acknowledged Eliza. There were now countless cracks echoing through the night as reinforcements arrived and joined the battle versus the last remnants of Path to Perfection. Occasionally a cry or a shout could be heard far off.

Harry eventually asked, "What happened?"

Eliza squeezed his shoulder tenderly, "Oh, Harry, you don't want to hear about it. It was really quite ghastly."

"No," he sniffed, "I need to know."

"It was him," she pointed at Henry sprawled out dead a good twenty feet away. "He disarmed us. He snapped our wands." She thought for a second, "He killed them and I somehow got to him before he got to me. I stuck one of the halves of the broken wands right through his heart. I got lucky...I could have been dead with them." She gestured to Gabrielle, "He killed _**her **_with the killing curse as I came up on him."

Harry heard the word 'them' again. He asked, "Who's them?"

Eliza sighed, "Look, before I tell you...you can't go all mental on me. She fell out of the sky pretty hard. She..."

"Where?!" Harry looked up and all around. "Was Fleur with her? Where's Victoire?"

"Whoa!" Eliza tried to calm him down. "I don't know. I was wandering around looking for intruders when I came up on them. The only ones were this girl here and Henry over there...and Ginny over there."

Harry searched in the darkness where Eliza pointed. There in the shadows was a body crumpled like a discarded doll. He would have raced over there but Gabrielle was still resting on his knees where he'd leaned over hugging her.

It was too much. Hermione. Gabrielle. Ginny. This was supposed to be the future where everyone lived. He'd read between the lines. It had been the ultimate reason why he'd chosen Ginny over Gabrielle. He couldn't let all of his friends and family get hurt just for his happiness.

He'd run out of tears. All he could do was stare at the limp body just a feet away from him. He knew he had to gather the courage to face this final tragedy. Gently he set Gabrielle down and crawled to Ginny. There were so many things he now wished he'd said to her so long ago. His mates had told him countless times that he should confront her and tell her he loved her. He now knew they were right.

His knees were raw by the time he reached her. He turned her over as gently as he could and picked up her head so he could rest it on his knees just has he had with Gabrielle moments before. Her face, as pale as Gabrielle's, looked so peaceful. The freckles were about gone but if he turned her head just right he could still see a hint of them. It reminded him of when he'd met her the first time at the Burrow.

Harry looked up to Eliza, "Her mum's going to hate me."

"Why?" Eliza asked surprised, "You didn't do any of this. The person who planned this was mad."

"I'm so sorry for what I did to you," he said to Eliza. "I should have treated you better."

"Where did that come?" she asked with a glimmer of hope. She twirled a curl of her otherwise tangled mess of hair around a finger, "You can't possibly feel..."

"...Look," Harry said, "I waited too long to be honest with these two. I've lost them both and neither one will know how I felt. I treated you rather poorly. I should have been more honest. You knew I still loved Ginny and I tried to pass it off as your fault."

"Well, how do you feel now?" she asked even more hopefully than before.

"Look at you," Harry kept on, "You could have died at his hands just like these two. As it is, you are still here with me and you are in terrible need of medical attention. Come here."

She tilted her head. Not sure what would happen next, she knew what she wanted. Desperately, she wanted him to kiss her. As she shuffled over to him, she pushed the tangled mess out of her eyes. It was still raining gently...as if the sky were crying over the tragedy of the night. She wanted desperately for him to end all of the sadness with one perfect kiss.

Once she crouched down, he pulled out his wand and gently began working on the cuts and scrapes on her face. It was very strange. As hard as he tried they would not mend. He began to grow pink with embarrassment. He tried and tried as he explained to her, "You were so sweet to me after Ginny left. If it weren't for you I wouldn't have gotten through those months. I was in such a melancholy state for so long and you understood me so well."

Despite the cuts and bruises she simply glowed in the moonlight. This was the speech she'd always wanted to hear. If only he'd stop messing with her face. He was getting agitated because his spells weren't working. One kiss would make them go away.

"Anyhow, you were so good to me," he said as he brushed her cheek with his hand. "I just needed to say that. I didn't want us to go on without being honest."

She had been hoping for something more, "And...?"

"Eliza, what was it that attacked you?" he asked. He'd tried and tried with his wand but the wounds just wouldn't go away and small dots of blood were still pooling up and then chasing the raindrops down her face.

She pursed her lips crossly. She needed to get him back on topic. "Don't worry about that, Harry. I'll be all right. You were going on about wanting to be honest?"

"Yeah," he answered, "I've loved Ginny so long. If I'd simply told her sooner we might not have even been here. Who knows what would have happened?" He brushed Ginny's cheek softly and then kissed her on the forehead.

That was strange. Ginny's forehead was very warm to the touch...as if she were feverish. He felt her neck. "She has a pulse!"

Eliza's jaw dropped, "What?!"

ZZZZZZZZZZZ

Fleur's brain felt like it was at least two sizes too big for her head. All she knew was that she heard crying and she couldn't bring her eyes to focus. "Victoire? Victoire!"

"Mama!" her daughter sobbed. Cracks of thunder began to blast the night sky in succession. The flashes and thunder came too closely together for natural lightning. The blasts silenced her daughter at first but then the crying began.

Fleur tried to bring her eyes back to focus. Lying on her back and afraid to move, she began to search for her daughter where cries had come from. Another crack of thunder followed a bright explosion nearby. This time screams could be heard for a few short seconds and the air around them filled with enough electricity to make the hairs on Fleur's arms stand up.

"Can you move?" a familiar voice asked.

"I don't know," Fleur replied. "She tested one limb and then another. They seemed to work, pain-free.

Gabrielle offered a hand, "We need to get out of here if you can. The person that shot you down will probably find us soon."

Fleur realised she was soaked to the bone, "What's happened? And where did all of this rain come from?" Her daughter cries were now coming from just above her.

"I'll tell you while we run," Gabrielle answered. "Victoire's arms broken and we need to get her out of here."

As Fleur followed her sister she noticed the body of someone lying on the ground, "What the...?"

"Take Victoire." As Fleur did her best to hold the little girl in her arms – they felt heavy and she feared she'd drop her daughter – Gabrielle turned Ginny's head to the side. If the rain came down any harder, Gabrielle was worried Ginny would drown. She knew she risked paralysing the witch but she'd have to solve one problem at a time.

"We can't just leave her," Fleur protested as Gabrielle took her niece back from her sister.

Gabrielle shook her head, "We need to get you out of here first. You are in shock and you just don't know it. Come on."

Fleur tried to follow her sister the best she could. She was still trying to piece together what had happened. She remembered flying away from the Burrow because it was...

"...Were we attacked?" Fleur asked her sister.

"I don't know exactly what happened," Gabrielle answered truthfully, "but I think so. Ginny had you one her broom and..."

"...We were struck down when I waved at you," Fleur began to remember. "I remember a red beam of light and..."

Gabrielle nodded, "Harry sent me looking for you. He's doing all of this." She waved up in the air.

"The rain?" Fleur asked.

"Hermione's hurt. So far as I can tell, Harry and I are the only one's that aren't. Screaming has been coming from all around ever since the rain started. Lightning seems to come down and then there's all sorts of crying from far off...sometimes close. I'm afraid..."

"...he's striking down the blokes who attacked us," Fleur finished.

Again Gabrielle nodded.

"How are you feeling?" Gabrielle asked. "Do you think you can apparate to St. Mungo's? If you are too woozy I can try."

"With my daughter? Are you mad?" Fleur glared fiercely at her sister, "While I respect your abilities considering your age, you are just out of school and less than a year removed from your Certification."

"Then I will see you soon," Gabrielle said as she kissed her sister on the cheek. "I need to get back to Ginny and see if she is all right."

"What? No!" Fleur answered. "Come with me!"

Gabrielle smiled sympathetically at her sister, "Would you leave Bill's mum if you knew she were lying in the same place? If you knew you might be able to help her?"

"But Ginny is not Harry's mum!" Fleur shouted. "She's his..."

"He loves her more than anything," Gabrielle answered sadly, "And I love him more than anything. It would devastate him if she..." Gabrielle couldn't answer past the tears. Instead she kissed her sister's other cheek, "I'll meet you at St. Mungo's, Mon Ami. Now go. You're daughter's turning green."

Fleur looked at her daughter who was indeed turning sickish. She needed to get the arm looked at immediately. She looked back up to see her sister was already several paces away. She clenched her teeth and turned on her heel. The resulting 'Crack!' was still loud enough that it could be heard by Gabrielle.

Hearing the 'Crack!' that told her that her sister was away safely, Gabrielle sped up the pace. Fortunately the rain was finally beginning to calm a bit. Even so, she felt the water seep in between the stitches of her boots and soak her toes. She wasn't exactly dressed for hiking.

Gabrielle knew she wasn't supposed to go back. She'd even promised Lavender that she wouldn't do so. Lavender had made her promise that she'd apparate to st. Mungo's the moment they crossed the property line. Even so, she'd thought about Ginny the entire time she'd walked with her sister. The young Veela knew she couldn't have it on her conscience that she'd left the witch Harry loved behind...even if it meant he'd spend the rest of his life with her because of her treachery. Gabrielle wouldn't be able to live with herself.

"Hmmm..." Gabrielle said to herself as she walked. Had she missed Ginny? It was so dark now. The rain had been reduced to a heavy mist. She didn't dare use her wand in fear she'd give her position away. Spells could once again be heard firing back and forth in the background and she didn't want to bring the fighting to her.

She knew Ginny hadn't crashed too far from the edge of the property. It only took the young Veela a few minutes of trudging through the dark to get Fleur out. She had to be near the scene of the accident by now.

Wait. She stopped in her tracks. Voices. Arguing. She tried to creep closer so she could hear. It was a witch's voice. She could only hear a few words at a time.

"You ... to be rather proud of yourself …... You act like _**you**_ killed her. Did you even check her body …. she was dead?"

Gabrielle didn't know what to do. She froze. As she tried to back away she ran into a low lying branch. It yielded like a bow but then popped backward like a sling shot as she fell through it. As she fell to the ground, it rebounded back and popped her square in the back of the head. "Ow!"

The couple ahead of her fell silent. After a few seconds the witch asked, "Did you hear that?"

The bloke must have nodded because Gabrielle didn't hear his response.

"Go look," the witch instructed.

"I'm not your bloody servant," the wizard answered. He didn't sound like it either. The bloke sounded like he gave more commands than he took.

"Please?" the witch asked with syrupy sweet sarcasm. "I did release you from Azkaban."

"Oy," he could be heard protesting. "I got myself out of Azkaban. All you did was leave a load of brooms for us and leave for holiday."

"Exactly," she countered. "If I'd have stayed I would have had to kill the lot of you for attempting to escape."

A sigh was heard. Gabrielle imagined he threw up his hands as he came looking for her.

And it didn't take him long to find her. "Come with me," the wizard instructed as he pulled her roughly by the ear.

The Veela drew her wand but it was gone before she even knew what he'd done. He'd twisted her arm with one hand and pulled her wand away with the other. A 'snap' announced that the wand would never be of any real use again. He pushed the young Veela through the brush.

Gabrielle recognised the witch the moment she saw her. Eliza MacGreggor had been pointed out to her once before by Fleur who'd told her under no certain terms, "Stay clear of that one. She gives me shivers every time I'm near her."

Ginny was still lying there on the ground. She hadn't moved a solitary inch from where Gabrielle had left her. Eliza followed her line of sight, "What are you looking at?"

Gabrielle answered back. "I was here with my sister when she died. My sister wanted to help her but it was too late."

Eliza looked carefully at Ginny, "She's dead you say? You know that for certain?"

Gabrielle nodded, "Good riddance too. All Harry did was go on and on about her."

Henry guffawed. Gabrielle had overplayed her hand.

Eliza tilted her head as if she'd finally recognised the witch, "You're that _**other**_ one. You're the little twit who tried to steal him away from me when we were dating. I saw you in the papers with him a month or so ago."

Gabrielle blushed. Eliza turned to the wizard, "Kill her."

Desperate, Gabrielle turned her charms on the wizard. As she batted her eyes, Henry released her. Already beautiful, when she blew a kiss at him, the former Auror couldn't help but try and catch it. His wand was drawn but it was now pointed at his redheaded accomplice.

"Really?" Eliza asked no-one in particular. With such nonchalance that she could have been ordering dinner, she attacked, "Avada Kedavra."

Had Gabrielle not charmed the poor bloke he likely would have dodged. His senses were so overcome by her glamours, though, that he was defenceless. In fact, when he fell to the ground it was with a giddy little grin pasted to his face.

"Bloody fool. What a waste of flesh," Eliza lamented. She now pointed her wand at Gabrielle, "It's time I finish the job and kill you too. First, though, you're going to fetch me his wand."

"What does it matter?" Gabrielle asked.

"I want this to look clean," Eliza answered. "I'm going to snap my wand so they can't check if for curses. Then I'm going to take Henry's wand and use it to kill you. After that, I'm going give Ginny a good strike with it. The Aurors will see the curses came from his wand. They wouldn't ever suspect me."

Gabrielle knew she was running out of options. She crouched down and picked up Henry's wand. As she turned to face Eliza she felt a hint of pain. It was very faint. It had to be coming from Ginny. She _**was**_ still alive!

But Eliza would just kill poor Ginny right after she killed Gabrielle. The young Veela thought for a second. What could she do?

"Now!" Eliza hissed at the young Veela. "Have you ever felt the Cruciatus Curse? I promise you it won't take more than a few seconds of it before you change your mind about being difficult."

Gabrielle reluctantly took a step. Then another. Then another. She couldn't take a fourth. It wouldn't be too many more and she'd be out of options. The Veela stopped.

Eliza pointed her wand at the Veela.

The Veela took another step. Again, she stopped. She tried to think of a way out. Eliza couldn't kill her with her own wand. They'd check it. She couldn't tell them that she'd struck them all down and destroyed her own wand after. It wouldn't make sense. Gabrielle glared back at the witch and took the dead wizard's wand in both hands. A loud **'Snap!'** could be heard.

Eliza gaped, "What have you done?" She looked like a cobra ready to strike but a familiar voice froze her.

"Ginny!"

It was Harry. Eliza became panicked. Gabrielle watched as the young Auror played out all of the possibilities in her head. It only took a few seconds. Before the Veela knew it, her opponent had already swung into action. Eliza whisked past Gabrielle and knelt before the dead wizard. The Veela watched as the kneeling witch uttered something foul under breath and then snapped her own wand. Quickly, the witch raised one of the halves of the wand high in the air and thrust it deep into the bloke's chest...right where his heart should have been. Then she stood up and faced the Veela.

Gabrielle backed away as her opponent took one step and then another closer. Eliza threw down the remaining shard of wood, "You know what this means, don't you? I'm going to have to kill you with my bare hands. And then? I'll simply break that bitch's neck to make sure she's dead too."

The young Veela was caught between running and staying to fight. She was certain that Eliza could catch her. Then she'd kill Ginny and they'd both be dead and this awful woman would win. Gabrielle continued to back away one step at a time but she grew angrier and angrier with each step. In fact, she was trying to focus that anger but she couldn't quite do it. The fear was too much.

Eliza goaded the Veela on, "After you are gone? Harry's going to finally be _mine_. No more Ginny. No more you. He's going to see what he should have seen all along. I'll be there to comfort him and he'll remember what it was like. He'll finally fall in love with me like he should have all along..."

This was too much for Gabrielle. Without warning, she began to transform before Eliza's eyes. It only took a moment but the much smaller Veela grew a good four to five inches. The transformed Veela looked down on Eliza. A sharp cruel beak and fierce eyes replaced the Veela's panicked stare. Long scaly wings grew out from her back and her beautiful arms and hands were replaced by talons that stretched out for her adversary. Now it was Eliza who backed, backed, backed away.

The Harpy-like creature leaped on Eliza. Talons tore at her arms and her face. Eliza's robes were ripped to shreds as she tried in vain to defender herself. The hideous beast even ripped into her shoulder with its beak - taking a bite out of her. Eliza wondered if it might even eat her right then and there. The Auror threw up her hands to protect herself. She was not going to die like this. She was too close to succeeding.

"Ginny! Ginny!" Harry was much closer now. The Harpy stopped flailing and looked up. She began to slowly transform into her old self.

"Oh" Eliza coughed. "Does it hurt you to? When he calls out her voice instead of yours?"

The Harpy's scales began to soften. Her beak slowly transformed into the softer gentler nose of the Veela. She still straddled Eliza but Gabrielle was no longer the menacing beast that had pinned the redhead down. The Veela looked down at Eliza with sadness and pity for what she had done. Even more so, she felt heartbroken knowing that Harry had finally realised what she had known all along – he loved Ginny. She looked down at the bloody mess of a witch below her and sighed.

As Eliza's attacker transformed she became lighter. Eliza was finally able to breathe and even speak, "It's cruel, isn't it? No matter what you do? No matter how much you love him? Isn't it cruel how he rips your heart out just by calling out one simple name? Do you wish, like me, that just this one time the name he called out would be yours?"

Gabrielle didn't have the opportunity to answer. Eliza had already reached up and wrapped her hands around the Veela's neck. The final heartbreak had been too much for the young witch. She'd lost her will to fight. In a way, she welcomed her fate. She couldn't bear the thought of living in a world where Harry held another woman.

"You sad lonely witch!" Eliza gloated. Her hands grew tighter and tighter around the throat of the Veela. Taking advantage of her longer arms she pushed Gabrielle off and rolled on top of her. Gabrielle's face grew a deep shade of purple. As Eliza watched the last of the Veela's life slip away she whispered, "The difference between me and you is I won't stand by and watch. I'll take matters into my own hands."

"Ginny!" Harry couldn't be more than a few feet away now.

Eliza pulled the young dead witch close to her she noted that the girl was as beautiful as ever. She closed the eyes of the young Veela and pushed the matted hair out of her face. By the time Harry arrived the deep red that was a tale tell sign of suffocation was gone and there was only a trace of crimson left in her cheeks.

Harry reached the clearing to find what he'd hoped against all hope of finding. Eliza was a bloody mess of matted hair and torn robes but he could tell that she didn't care one bit about her own problems. Eliza instead looked up at him with hair shoved everywhere and tears streaming from her eyes, "I tried to save her Harry!"

Inwardly she smiled. By the look on his face he bought it. All of it.

ZZZZZZZZZZ

"What?!" Eliza's face was no longer the sweet hopeful vision of a witch in love. Before, despite the deep gashes, she had looked almost radiant in her efforts to comfort him.

"Go get the others," he pleaded. "No, wait," he looked regretfully at Gabrielle because he knew what he had to do, "Come on. _**We**_ need to get her to St. Mungo's."

"I'll go get someone," Eliza lied.

"No," Harry insisted, "I need to move her now. She's feverish. Something is very wrong. Will you conjure a cot so I can move her?"

"But..."

"Please," Harry begged. "I need your help and _you _are the _only_ one I can depend on."

Eliza bit her lip as she debated what to do. Her heart was breaking. Ultimately, the fact that he said that he could only depend on her won her over. She wanted so badly to bash that slag's head in with a rock but she couldn't dare chance losing his new-found affection. He had been so close to saying he loved her...she was certain of it.

She conjured the cot. Who knew? If the little wench died on the way to St. Mungo's then she might still win his heart back yet. She only had to wait until the right time. He'd come around.

The witch followed him to the edge of the property like an obedient puppy. When they reached the edge of the forest he asked, "Do you know any other wizards that live around here?" Harry wasn't exactly in a state to think.

"Aren't those loons the Lovegoods just over the hill?" Eliza asked.

Harry slapped his head, "You're right."

They hiked the requisite quarter mile. She imagined every possible way Ginny could die. With each more gruesome option she smiled wider. By the time they reached Xeno's front door she was positively optimistic. Harry knocked.

Nothing.

Harry knocked again.

Nothing.

"Maybe he joined the battle?" she asked helpfully.

Harry tried the door. It was unlocked. No wards. No anything.

As they entered, Eliza used her wand for light, "Over here."

Xeno Lovegood had repaired the home since Harry's last visit. No longer were the stairs and upper floors collapsed. In fact, for such an eccentric bloke, Xeno kept his home very tidy. Pictures of Luna from every imaginable place with every imaginable beast covered the walls. What Harry could not find was a floo.

"Over here," announced a very helpful Eliza.

She already had a pinch tucked between her fingers when he found her. He offered one end of the cot to her, "I couldn't do this without you."

"Of course you couldn't," she answered in her most sugary sweet voice. "You trust me to go first?"

"Certainly," Harry answered.

"Brilliant," she replied. She pictured their destination clearly in her head, "Ready?"

"Aye," Harry answered. "On the count of three. One...two...**Three!**"

She flicked the floo powder merrily in and announced with zest their destination. She pulled the cot behind her and Harry was obligated to follow her in. Sure, that slag Ginny was still coming between them...both metaphorically and literally moment. Once they got to their destination, though, he'd see. Harry was a smart boy. Once they got there...he had to see."


	48. TP The Ship Sails

**Chapter 48 – The Ship Finally Sails**

**Submitted: Fri 25 Jan 2013 Last Sub: Fri 20 Jan 2013**

**SPOILER ALERT: This is the third chapter submitted in the past eight days. The past two chapters have included a lot of action and are a major part of the ending so don't accidentally read ahead. Use the submission dates at the top to keep from accidentally reading too far forward.**

**A/N: It took me only two hours to write this chapter. I don't know if that's good or bad but I barely had to edit either. I hope you'll take a minute to let me know what you think about it. I'm moving tomorrow so a few Reviews would put a smile on my face on an otherwise stressful day. I hope to have the next (and possibly last) chapter out on 31 Jan. **

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><p>She'd woken up in fog so thick that she couldn't even see her hand. The wooden planks below her must have been ages old. Years of salty air had eaten away at the wood and the planks felt rough and slightly warped along the edges. She wasn't sure how she'd gotten here or even where she was yet she was sure she'd seen the place before.<p>

"Ginny? Ginny Weasley?" a familiar voice called out. It'd been years since she'd heard the voice. "Are you out there?"

"Erm, yes!" Ginny called back. "Professor Dumbledore?"

"Ah! There you are, my Dear."

"Sir, please don't come any closer," Ginny pleaded. "I'm in a bit of a compromising position."

"How so, Dear?" Dumbledore called back.

The fog began to lift a little and she caught the shape of Dumbledore just a few feet away. She rushed to cover herself, "I seem to have woken up without any clothes."

"Nonsense!" Dumbledore answered good naturedly. "You seem to be dressed fine to me."

Ginny looked down. Indeed, she was dressed for riding. She could have sworn...

Dumbledore chuckled, "I wouldn't worry too much, my Dear. Here you are provided with what you need as you need it,"

"Where are we?" Ginny asked.

There was a twinkle in Dumbledore's eye, "It's quite amusing you should ask. I am asked that question so often and yet...I'm never quite sure. Where do you think we are, my dear?"

The fog had lifted a good bit by now. They stood on a pier and at least a hundred feet away was a ship moored to it. At the other end of the pier was an old village that appeared to have served the ships in the area for ages. This was not a village in England yet it looked strangely familiar. She didn't think she'd ever seen it before herself but she might have read about it once.

"Are we on our way to visit the Undying Lands?" Ginny asked.

"Mmmm...she answers a question with a question," Dumbledore mused to himself. "I suppose in a way you might say that. Presently we are not visiting any place. We are quite in between places if I do say so myself."

Ginny appeared confused, "But we are here."

"We are where, Dear?" the wizard asked. "We are on a pier. By the very definition of a pier I'd say we were in between places. So, you are an avid reader?"

The young witch smiled sadly, "I enjoyed _**Lord of the Rings**_ as a Child."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful, "Were you one of the throng of young witches who pretended she had followed the path of Arwen and given up her immortality in order to marry the mighty Aragorn?"

"I preferred Frodo, actually." Ginny remembered, "He was so strong. He carried a burden that was almost unimaginable so that others wouldn't have to."

"So he did," Dumbledore answered. "And strength of heart is so much more difficult to find than physical prowess...yet so many more admire the latter." Dumbledore took another moment to appreciate the pier and the atmosphere around it, "You have a beautiful imagination, Miss Weasley. Not many create their own entry point. Most will pick some place they know. Not too long ago, I was treated to King's Cross Station."

"Is this what I think it is?" Ginny asked sadly.

"I'm afraid it is," the white wizard frowned. "But I have good news!"

Before she had a chance to ask, a stocky young wizard with pointy ears popped out from behind Dumbledore. While Dumbledore was dressed entirely in white and even now had flowing white beards...the pointy-eared wizard was dressed in lavender robes with little jokers embroidered in gold. A shock of red hair could be seen peaking out from under the jester's hat he wore. His smile was just as she remembered it, "Hello sis!"

"Fred!"

"Aye," he grinned. "You have some memory. Am I dressed as Legolas?"

"Awww, you remembered," Ginny answered. "But, no, you look nothing like Legolas."

Fred guffawed, "I should remember. You convinced George and I to pretend to be elves all the time. Ron could recite whole passages. You did right by Gandalf here."

"Gandalf?" Dumbledore asked. "I suppose I could do worse than Gandalf. I must admit that I preferred him in Grey."

As they spoke, the fog continued to clear more and more. Soon the ship could be seen clearly and elves were preparing it for its voyage. The village began to bustle as well. There was enough chatter and activity that no-one seemed to notice a small haggard witch wander up until she was right on them.

Ginny squinted, "Hermione?"

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow, "This is odd. You have a powerful imagination indeed, Miss Weasley. Is that Hermione Granger?"

There was no answer. The witch before them was as silent as the baby in her arms. Her hair was a bushy mess with locks tousled every which way.

Dumbledore frowned, "I forgot, she too was due for a meeting. Unfortunately, I am called upon often."

Ginny tilted her head, "Why?"

Fred chirped up, "Everyone knows Dumbledore. In order to make it to the other side? You are in need a guide."

"Are you rhyming on purpose?" Ginny asked.

Fred didn't answered. Instead he waggled his eyebrows up and down like he used to do when he wanted a cheap grin out of her. It worked.

"Hermione?" Ginny tried to put her hand on the older witch's shoulder but was met with an elbow to the ribs.

This time Dumbledore tried, "Miss Granger?"

Hermione was not in the bright spirits that Ginny had awoken in, "Have you seen my baby? They killed my baby."

The older wizard stroked his beard, "Yes. Yes, I believe they did."

Her eyes gleamed madly, "I want to show _them_ what it is like to lose what _they_ love most in this world. "

"Dear," Dumbledore tried to calm her, "That would be difficult to do. Harry dispatched them to a place where they will hurt no-one further."

"Harry?" Hermione asked. Her eyes glimmered, "I shall visit them at Azkaban then. I will show them what real pain is."

"They aren't at Azkaban," Dumbledore explained, "He became so angry...he exercised very poor judgement."

Ginny seemed more concerned for Harry than Hermione, "What happened?"

The great white wizard made a go at a smile but he simply could not, "I don't think he quite realised _what_ he was doing. Often the most terrible things are done by those that mean well. Harry became so angry that those he loved were being hurt around him...including you, my dear, most of all...that he let loose a spell that normally is quite harmless. With a simple weather spell he struck down his opponents one by one until only a few were left standing."

Dumbledore fell silent as the clippety-clop of hoofs began to thump on the pier. It was unusual for a horse to be willing to take a rider so quickly on such an unfamiliar structure but this horse apparently trusted its master. As the rider dismounted, Dumbledore shook his head, "More and more peculiar by the moment..."

"Phew! I was worried I might miss the boat!" the newcomer claimed.

Her golden blonde hair was pulled back so that her face was unmistakeable. She tied her horse to the pier before flashing a smile that would have melted any man's heart, "Is there room for one more?"

"You are here for Gabrielle as well?" Ginny asked Dumbledore.

The wizard merely shrugged. He'd long ago lost control of Ginny's vision. Instead Gabrielle answered for him, "Actually I am here for you, Ginny."

"Me? Why?"

"For the obvious reason." Gabrielle answered as she petted her horse, "Harry."

"But I am going to the same place as you," the former Seeker answered.

"Actually," Dumbledore cut in, "I was going to say before all of these interruptions that you have a choice."

"How so?"

"Your injuries were great and a return would not be easy for you. I will not lie, it will be painful and you will wish on occasion that you _had_ died. The reason you are on the pier and not the boat itself is that you have a choice to board or to walk away."

"I thought Harry fancied _you?_" Ginny asked the Veela. "It was in all of the papers. Why don't _you_ take care of him?"

Two reasons," Gabrielle answered sweetly, "Firstly, _I _was the one that saved you. I came back for you at the Burrow. If you don't return then my sacrifice was a waste. Secondly, I'm beyond saving. If you don't go back then Harry has _**no-one**_. As it is, he feels responsible for all of our deaths."

"Why?" Ginny asked.

"He believes _he _killed Hermione's baby. Furthermore, he feels like if he'd come to the Burrow sooner he could have saved me _and _you."

"But didn't I fall off my broom?"

"Who is going to be there to tell him that if you leave on this boat?" Gabrielle asked. "Hermione can't. Look at her. She's so wrapped up in guilt and anger that she may not even make it to the afterworld."

As if on cue, Hermione began wandering away from the group. As she headed back toward the village she mumbled something unintelligible.

Dumbledore glanced at both Gabrielle and Ginny, "If she doesn't come out of that stupor of hers, Hermione won't make it to the boat."

Ginny looked worried, "What will happen to her?"

The white wizard frowned, "She'll wind up wandering the world as a ghost."

Ginny remembered Myrtle and the Grey Lady, "Maybe I could talk to her?"

"It doesn't work like that," Dumbledore answered. "She doesn't even recognise you, Miss Weasley. She hasn't acknowledged you yet."

Gabrielle looked sadly at Hermione. She walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. After what seemed like a minute she hugged the witch and whispered in her ear. Hermione began crying as she showed the blonde witch her baby. Gabrielle took her by the hand and guided her back to the group.

Ginny cocked an eyebrow, "How did you do that? What did you say to her?"

Gabrielle sighed, "I told her that the baby would be much more comfortable where we were going versus the village. If she went to the village where would she stay?" The young Veela now looked intently at Ginny, "And you? Will you go to the more comfortable place or will you go and live your life? You have the opportunity for years and years of happiness with a man you love. He needs you...and you need him. Your life is nowhere near complete."

Dumbledore looked like he wanted to interject but as he lifted his finger to speak he thought better of it and stood there silently.

"How? How do I go back?" Ginny asked.

Gabrielle gestured toward the horse, "Take him. I no longer need him. Ride through the main road of the village. As you reach the other side it will likely get foggy. Don't worry. Ride through the fog and wish you were back with Harry. Before you know it you will be there."

The youngest Weasley glanced hopefully at Dumbledore. He nodded. What Gabrielle said was true.

"And Hermione?" Ginny was reluctant to leave her mate in such a state, "She'll be taken care of."

"The next time you see her you won't know the difference," Gabrielle promised. "Here." She untied the reins and handed them to her mate, "His name is Adonis."

"How can I thank you?" Ginny asked as she hugged the witch she'd formerly thought of as a rival.

"All I ask is this." Gabrielle helped the witch up onto the horse, "Take care of Harry for me. He saved me and my family. I owe him my life. If I can't be there for him I want to make sure he's well taken care of. Earn this second chance...Can you do that?"

Through misty eyes, Ginny nodded. She turned the horse and slowly it clip-clopped its way toward the village.

Gabrielle remembered one more thing and she called out so Ginny could hear, "And don't _you _waste your time either! Live your life! You never know when you'll be back on this pier with no choice but to take the boat!"

Ginny took the advice and urged the horse on. Adonis took no time to reach a full gallop and villagers made room as he flew down the dirt road. In a matter of moments, they'd passed through the village and found the fog that the Veela had warned about. Rather than slow the horse down, the youngest Weasley urged him even faster. The horse neighed and blasted forward unafraid.

The fog was now so thick she couldn't see a thing. With a jerk she was thrown from the horse. When she hit the ground, all went black.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Ginny woke up with a gasp. It was dark - so dark, in fact, that all she could see was the shadow of someone sitting and watching her. She wondered if he was asleep because he didn't seem to acknowledge her at all.

A witch in a white healer's robe arrived with a candle soon after Ginny woke, "I thought I heard a rustle in here. How are we feeling?"

"Has he been like that for long?" Ginny asked.

"Three days now," the healer answered. "Hasn't moved except to draw his wand at anyone that offers to see him out. We're under the Minister's orders not to disturb him unless it's to bury him."

"What?" That seemed ludicrous. "Why would the Minister say such a thing?"

"Dunno. Minister insists that other than your mum, there isn't a soul in the world he has left to live for besides the two of you in here. She seems to be of a similar opinion."

Ginny made an effort to turn her head but she couldn't. A terrible pain shot down her back and through each of her extremities.

"The Granger girl is over there," the witch offered. "She's in worse shape than you. All you did was badly sprain your neck and break your back in a few places. We were able to fix the breaks but with the nerve damage you'll likely need some help learning how to walk again."

"Will I be able to play Quidditch again?"

"Will she be able to play Quidditch again?" the healer mocked. "Dearie, you'll be lucky to be able to be able to walk without a limp." The healer set the candle down and turned as if to leave the room.

"Wait!"

"What?"

The young witch didn't want to be alone, "Can you wake him?"

"Dear," the healer picked the candle back up and brought it closer to Ron's face, "he _is_ awake."

**ZZZZZZZ**

Gabrielle watched after her horse to make sure it took its new master safely away. When she was confident the horse and its rider would not return, she turned her attention to her boyfriend's mate, "How is the baby?"

Crusty hair was still matted to Hermione's cheek, "He seems happier. I think he wants to make the trip."

"A mother would know," the Veela agreed. "What do you say we head to the boat?" she seemed to ask both Hermione and Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, now the audience rather than the guide, merely shrugged.

As they strolled along the pier, the breeze began to warm. Gabrielle stole a sidelong glance at the new mum, "I am _**so**_ looking forward to this voyage. It seems the perfect weather for it."

Hermione nodded. She held her baby close to her. It still had not made so much as a noise. Still it seemed to have taken on some life as it came closer and closer to the ship.

"And look at these wonderful creatures that Ginny has imagined up for us," Gabrielle continued. "I'll wager a Drachma that they'll have tea waiting for us on the ship. Do you fancy tea?"

The Veela was rewarded with another nod from her companion.

"What I enjoy most about sailing is the smell of the salt and the warm wind on your face. And when we get there...well, it won't be the same as living but it is so beautiful." Gabrielle glanced ever so subtly at Hermione, "Of course, it's a shame about, Ron."

For the first time Hermione remembered her fiance, "What about Ron?" The baby seemed to grow restless.

"To lose both you and...what is your baby's name?" asked Gabrielle curiously.

"Iris," Hermione answered sadly. It was obvious that as the baby took more and more life that Hermione was becoming more and more lucid. She seemed almost sane, "I originally was going to name her after my mother but Iris seems much more appropriate now."

"Iris, I remember an Iris that I once knew." Gabrielle answered as if thinking way back. "May I hold her? Just for a second perhaps? She's _so_ beautiful."

At first Hermione seemed reluctant. She looked down at her daughter who had been snuggled up to her. It was as if the little girl was reaching out to the Veela. Despite her misgivings, Hermione carefully handled the tiny baby to the young Veela. The baby began to coo and to gurgle. It was as if she had taken on true life. Even Dumbledore seemed surprised.

They'd reached the end of the pier. Gabrielle continued speaking, "I was saying that I can only imagine how Ron feels right now. He absolutely adores you. To lose both you and your daughter. He never seemed like the type of bloke to me that would get over such a thing. In the brief time I knew him, I got the feeling that you were all he thought about. And to lose his daughter to boot?"

Hermione was listening to Gabrielle but her eyes were only on her baby. The tiny infant was actually smiling. Hermione extended a finger and her baby grabbed hold playfully. It was as if she was alive for the very first time. Now even Hermione was smiling as she looked into her beautiful child's eyes.

"You know," the young Veela said quietly, "there is very little wrong with you that rest won't help. It's your heart that brought you here. You knew you lost your baby and you didn't want to live without her." She offered Iris back to Hermione, "But I can understand if you wish to come along. I don't have a choice but I know if I did I'd want to return and care for Harry. I know how much he wishes I was still there."

The baby instantly quieted down when Gabrielle handed her back to Hermione. No longer did she gurgle or coo. She didn't smile. She barely even moved. Hermione's smile faded away as well. The mother in her grew jealous. She began to grow angry with Gabrielle for having whatever power she had to bring her daughter back to life.

But jealousy quickly gave way to desire. Every fibre in Hermione's being wanted to hear her daughter gurgle and coo again. She wanted so badly to see that precious smile. As if performing one of her experiments, Hermione reluctantly handed Iris back to the young Veela.

Gabrielle pretended to be surprised. Iris reached for the Veela. Instantly, she took on life again. Hermione felt both happy and disappointed. She couldn't help but ask, "Why? I don't know of any powers that Veelas have over babies."

"Perhaps," Gabrielle considered, "That Iris is trying to tell you something."

Hermione looked at the Veela quizzically.

"Perhaps," Gabrielle repeated, "Iris wants you to go and help her father. Maybe she knows that it isn't quite your time yet."

"But...what about her?" Hermione asked. "Who will take care of Iris?"

"I would if you would like. All I ask is that you do one thing for me. I would take care of her until you return and then you would spend the rest of eternity with her. I swear on my magic that she will be happy."

Dumbledore watched as a whirlwind of sparks and sparkles wrapped around the two witches, signifying that a great and powerful promise had been made. The baby cooed happily at the prospect.

Hermione finally seemed to have returned to her right mind. There was no better antidote to melancholy than the sight of her baby smiling, "What do you need me to do?"

"It's about Harry," Gabrielle explained. "I need you to do this..."

And the young Veela explained in detail what she needed. Once Hermione promised to do as she was asked, Gabrielle offered the baby back for one more hug and goodbye. Hermione refused to hold her baby again. She couldn't risk the possibility of seeing her baby lifeless in her arms even one more time. Instead, Hermione kissed her daughter on the top of her head and told her she loved her. Then she asked Dumbledore, "How do I return?"

"Simply close your eyes and wish it so" the white wizard answered.

"It's that easy?"

He smiled, "It's that easy."

**ZZZZZZZ**

Harry was on his hands and knees. So far there wasn't a stick or a rock he hadn't turned over. The forest was dark but he didn't care. Even the most beastly of beasts didn't dare approach him.

Too rough. Too light. Too big. Too small.

Gabrielle. Hermione. Ginny. Marianne. Bill. Angelina. The baby.

When he'd stepped out of St. Mungo's all of them were either dead or in critical condition. At first he'd rushed home to find the feather that Fawkes had presented him on Mount Olympus. Perhaps if he could summon Fawkes back he could use his tears to heal his mates. Harry turned over his study looking for the feather with no luck.

Then Kreacher popped in with a "Crack!"

"What is Master Harry searching for?" the ancient elf asked.

Harry ran a hand through his untidy hair, "A feather. A feather from a phoenix. I left it in here somewhere."

"Forgive Kreacher," the elf croaked, "but I believe Master Harry is mistaken. The feather Master Harry is searching for is in the library where he researched a use over ham and rye. Miss Hermione grew tired of it being left on Master Harry's desk and she placed it with the other artefacts in the library safe."

Harry leaned over and hugged Kreacher, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Then he ran upstairs. That's when he realised he didn't know the combination. He pulled out his wand to try to force it open.

"I wouldn't do that," croaked his elf.

Harry jumped, "Bugger, Kreacher. Don't surprise me like that."

"The safe is protected by some rather nasty curses," the elf promised. "I watched her add them myself."

The young wizard threw his hands up into the air helplessly, "Then how am I going to get in there? She's the only one that knows the combination."

Kreacher squawked in such a way that could only be laughter, "Misses Hermione asked Kreacher to tell Harry that if he ever needed in the safe that the combination is 'the day that the three of you met.'"

"September 1st, 1991?" Harry didn't even have to turn the knob. The door clicked and opened.

"Miss Hermione said the knob was for decoration," Kreacher croaked. "And it provides a nasty shock for anyone that tries to turn it."

Harry searched the contents of the safe. It didn't take long to find the feather. After trying every summoning charm he could think of he decided he'd take it around Diagon Alley to ask the opinion of some of the experts he knew. He even tried the lady at Eyelops hoping her knowledge of birds would extend to Phoenix. No luck, her only passion had been owls.

Eventually he gave up on the phoenix idea and that's what brought him here. If Harry couldn't keep them alive then he'd bring them back. The young wizard had spent hours digging around the dead leaves and limbs of the Forbidden Forest.

He'd been on his hands and knees since late the night before. For nearly twenty hours he'd searched. His shins and elbows were raw. He hadn't slept in three days or even eaten or drank a thing. He was a good breeze away from falling over.

Lavender watched from the shadows, "You're never going to find it."

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

"I'm a bloody Seer, you know?"

Harry didn't bother to look up, "Like you saw any of this coming."

"Every bit of it. Almost all of it anyway. I tried so hard not to get personally involved. I knew people were going to die. I knew that you'd save the others."

The growl gave her a start, "And you couldn't have warned me sooner? Better? I could have done more."

"That's the trouble with you," Lavender complained, "No matter how many you save, you get caught up in the two or four you couldn't. People die, Harry, and you can't do nothin' about it. People get hurt, like me. It's a dangerous world."

"I just can't understand..."

"Because you would have _**died**_, Harry! If I'd told what was really going on then you'd have charged in with wand blazing and that Auror bloke Dodson would have cut you down like you were a Firsty! Then they'd all have died!" Lavender choked on her words, "I...I can't get it through your thick head. I...if I.." She gathered a breath, "If I share too much then it only makes things worse."

He went back to digging through the dirt.

Lavender couldn't hold it in any more, "I killed her."

Harry looked up, "Who?"

"Gabrielle," she sniffed, "She was supposed to live. But after you left, I accidentally mentioned that Fleur and Victoire were going to die. She made me tell her where to find them."

Harry didn't understand, "How did that kill her? She got them out safely."

"She wasn't supposed to go to the Burrow, Harry. She was supposed to live. She was supposed to live and the two of you were going to move to Greece and live long happy lives. You wouldn't be able to keep your hands off the poor girl and you would have had seven children."

If Harry hadn't already been on his hands and knees he'd have ended up there. This was too much to take with so little sleep. He studied the crone's face, "But how? You said that if I chose one way then I'd end up with Ginny and if I chose another I'd end up with Gabrielle."

Lavender tried to explain, "No, I said that if you chose one way you might end up in love with a witch wouldn't be able to love you back. Ginny would have been dead. You'd have loved her but she'd have been dead. You'd have then gone on to live with Gabrielle in Greece. She paused to let him take in what she was saying, "I then said that if you chose the other option you'd live happy with a woman although you would have lost family and friends. This was true, because all of the Weasleys would have been killed as well as Seamus and everyone else at the party."

"But..."

"When I told Gabrielle about her sister and niece, I asked her not to go back for Ginny. Originally that Auror bloke was supposed to kill all three of them." Lavender didn't dare tell the whole story. All paths where Harry knew the real killer ended with him and Ginny dead. Instead she paused to gather her thoughts, "Gabrielle realised how devastated you'd be with Ginny's death, so she went back for her anyway. If I'd stayed out of the whole mess she'd still be alive."

Harry was too tired to be angry with Lavender. He couldn't fault her for trying to help Gabrielle save her sister. All he wanted to do was sleep.

"I've decided I'm giving it up," Lavender said. "I seem to do more harm than good. I'm giving up the whole business."

"What will you do to make a living?" Harry asked. "You can come to live with me again."

"No," she answered. "A bloke from London paid me a million pounds sterling to help him with some business decisions. Fortunately he paid me just before he was killed. I'm taken care of."

"How did you find me here, then?" Harry asked.

"I ignore any thoughts of the future. Those I normally have to seek. The present, though, I often see without any real effort at all. I've seen you out here for hours and thought you should know the stone is lost forever. That...and Ginny woke up about an hour ago."

"But..." Harry stammered, "but...she and I aren't supposed to be together. You said it yourself. She doesn't love me."

"You really must listen to me more closely," Lavender chided him, "I never said she'd didn't love you. In fact, I purposely avoided the question. Ginny _**does**_ love you. In any future that you tried to save Ginny you would have died. The only way that Ginny lived was if Gabrielle saved her."

"So...?"

"Yes," Lavender agreed, "I'd reckon that if you went to see Ginny she would tell you she loves you. My guess is that you will likely have four children."

"You've seen this?" Harry asked.

"No," Lavender reminded him, "I'm done looking into the future. My guesses are based on how she felt for you previously, you're appetite for evening encounters and her willingness to have a large family."

By now Harry was on his feet, "So you're saying..?"

"Go!"

**ZZZZZZZ**

Harry showed up just as Hermione woke. His entrance at such a late hour was not easy but Madam Pomfrey managed to see him arguing with a healer at the front and she promptly escorted him to the back.

"You look dreadful," she scolded as they walked through the halls.

"I'd think you'd be more supportive," he snapped back. "At least this time I'm the one doing the visiting."

"I spoke with the Minister," Pomfrey replied. "He wants me to keep my eye on you. He says you slipped into some mighty dark magic and he wants to make sure you don't suddenly collapse or something odd like that."

"Why would he...?"

"Look at you." Madam Pomfrey stopped him. She took him by the arm and dragged him to a mirror. For the first time in days, Harry looked at his reflection. What he saw was bizarre. His features seemed...sharper and more intense. His nose. His chin. His cheeks. Even the lightning scar on his forehead looked more pronounced.

She could tell that he noticed, "Look at your eyes, Harry. There's death in them. You dallied with might powerful magic, boy. That's how it starts. You can be saved but you must feel remorse. I know it seems they deserved it but you must look past the evil of those you killed and you must ask forgiveness for what you've done. If you don't? You'll only be tempted to do it again."

Madam Pomfrey began to drag him again but this time towards the room which held Ginny and Hermione, "Go see your mates tonight and don't worry about it one bit for now. But soon, very soon, you need to go visit Kingsley and let him help you. He too had to deal with his demons – the night you nearly died. He still wrestles with that night and the nightmares will likely begin for you soon too."

As they reached the entrance she felt obligated to say one more thing, "Harry, many people will be impressed with what you did. They'll call you a hero and they'll pat you on the back. I'll say this to you only once because I don't think even Kingsley is willing to say it. What you performed a few nights back was powerful magic. That said, nearly any seventh year could have accomplished a weaker version of it if they tried. Dark magic is almost always easier to perform than comparable spells of a lighter variety. What made Dumbledore so great was that he had enough humility to control his magic so that he injured his opponents as little as possible. He could have done what you did in his sleep but he wouldn't have dared tried because he refused to willingly hurt another living being."

Harry thought about what she said. It made sense. He'd have to think on it more in the future. If he weren't so tired and didn't anticipate seeing Ginny so much he'd have likely looked inward at that moment and contemplated what Madam Pomfrey said. Instead, he thanked her and hugged her and opened the door.

As Harry entered the room he saw Ginny awake for the first time. He didn't have time to say any of the things that he wanted to say, though. Hermione woke up bawling. A healer came rushing in and ran right flat into Harry's back.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Dumbledore eyed the young witch next to him, "Was it necessary to lie to them?"

Gabrielle glanced up from the happy little baby she was playing with, "Are you unhappy with the results? If I hadn't stepped in, that witch Hermione would be wandering around the Burrow for centuries. Do you know what it does to you to see your own child die in front of you?"

"And Ginny?"

"He couldn't lose them both," she argued. "Gabrielle was taken right out from under him. They'd have made such a good couple."

Dumbledore chuckled, "Every mum wants to see her daughter with a boy like Harry. I must admit that you look just like Gabrielle."

"It wasn't much of a stretch," Aphrodite admitted as she transformed herself into her true form. "She could be my twin if not for the hair and the complexion. Same cheekbones. Same bosom..."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"And yes," Aphrodite smiled, "who wouldn't want their daughter to marry a boy like Harry? In this case, what would it be? A hundred generations? What would they call me?"

"Old," Dumbledore answered sardonically. "Incidentally, what took you so long to return? I expected you a week ago."

"I wasn't ready. This old ghost had one last piece of business left." Aphrodite grinned as she changed the subject, "Considering it's just me and the baby, do you think I could have a parting a little more to my taste?"

They'd shoved off a good twenty minutes before bearing true west with the morning sun to their backs. The ship's elves were sombrely doing their work. These were not the elves of magic England. These were the fictitious high elves of Elerand. They had been the work of Ginny's imagination.

"Close your eyes," Dumbledore instructed.

She closed her eyes and then opened them to a much more inviting scene. Iris seemed pleased as well. They stood on a long boat with thirteen rowing to a side. Taking Fred's place was Charon, who guided the boat. In Dumbledore's place stood her old mate Hades, "Is this more to your liking?"

Aphrodite sighed contentedly "The River Styx. Yes, very much so." She gazed lovingly at the beautiful little girl in her arms, "You are going to love it here. I'm going to take good care of you for your mum...just like I promised I would."


	49. TP 49 Unexpected Requests

**Chapter 49 – Unexpected Requests**

**Submitted: Wed 6 Feb 2013 Last Submission: 25 Jan 2013**

**A/N: This is the second to last chapter. I ask that you take time to add yourself as a follower of the sequel today if you are a follower of Aphrodite's Kiss. The working title is Harry Potter and the Mirror of Madness. It will take me a few weeks to get the first real chapter out because I won't begin submitting until I have at least three working chapters. My goal is to write the sequel through Hermione's eyes and include much more of Ron. You'll understand why as the story progresses. Thanks again to all of you who have reviewed my stories or have added them as favourites. I hope you've gotten as much out of reading my stories as I have writing them. Please continue to let me know what you think.**

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><p>Harry sat alone in a pew in the back. Never one to enjoy the spotlight, today he preferred to be left to himself. Losing Marianne had been hard. His partner for well over a year, he'd come to appreciate the challenges that she had dealt with during these trying times. She'd volunteered for more hours whenever she could to make up for her husband's lack of income. She'd just made the decision to leave the Department for Magical Law Enforcement for the very reason that it was so dangerous.<p>

Marianne rated a hero's funeral for her efforts to protect Hermione during what had become known amongst the media as the Molly's Day Massacre. To Harry, she was just one more senseless death that could have been avoided if he'd arrived moments sooner. He didn't care what Madam Pomfrey thought – he'd gladly have killed every one of those blokes if it would have kept Gabrielle and Marianne alive.

The young wizard checked his watch. The service had been scheduled for ten o'clock but it seemed that there was some confusion at the front. An oddly dressed bloke in a Muggle looking suit was speaking with Minister Shacklebolt. The Minister quickly looked around and pointed directly to Harry.

As the Muggle ambled his way down the aisle toward Harry, the Minister made an announcement, "Witches and Wizards, please forgive the delay. We are waiting for Mr. Mason to arrive. I've been informed that he might be delayed due to traffix. I'm not sure what a traffix is but I've been assured it is something he can get himself out of all on his own."

Harry noticed Madeline and her mates from school were whispering amongst themselves. Madeline did not look pleased at all. She'd said something when he'd arrived about how the two had suffered through a huge row. She wouldn't go into details but he'd sent her back to Hogwarts and told her that her place was in school.

As the Minister spoke, the oddly dressed bloke tapped on Harry's shoulder from behind his pew, "Excuse me."

"Yes?" Harry asked.

"I represent Dr. Matthew Mason and his family. I was instructed to deliver this letter to you yesterday. Forgive me for the delay but I searched in all of the places I was told you might be. Unfortunately you are a difficult bloke to lay hands on. As a last ditch effort, I thought I'd try here thinking you'd certainly be at his wife's funeral."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I don't rightly know," the stranger answered in exasperation. "I tried to open the envelope to see if it might offer a hint to where you might be but nothing I tried would do it. It's like it's magical or something.

Harry blinked. He wondered if this bloke even knew where he was. He glanced down at the envelope and recognised it immediately as one of those that George sold in his shop. He remembered Marianne buying a box of them for her husband just before Victoire's birthday. The envelope read in an unhealthy scrawl, _'Mr. Harry Potter.'_

The Muggle was surprised to see the envelope open as if it were mere paper. He tried to read the uneven scrawl over Harry's shoulder but before the bloke new it, Harry had jumped up and raced out of the building. He tried to follow but by the time he'd reached the double doors, Harry was gone. He returned to the chapel to find all eyes on him. In disbelief, he shrugged to no-one in particular, "It was as if he disappeared."

Harry _had_ disappeared. He then reappeared at the front door of the Mason home. The door was unlocked. Harry called out, "Dr. Mason? Dr. Mason!"

The young wizard searched room by room on the ground floor. No luck. The Sitting Room was a mess but didn't show any sign of trouble. Papers were spread all about the desk in the study but it too seemed to suffer more from neglect than foul play. The kitchen was a mess of dishes that had piled up just at the edge of the counter. While the rooms were untidy, there seemed no other cause for worry.

Even so, the house was eerily silent. Harry pulled out his wand as he walked up the steps in anticipation, "Dr. Mason?"

He found what he was looking for in the Master Bedroom. Again, Harry glanced down at the letter. He took a step back and then another. When his back hit the wall he let gravity do its job and he slid slowly down to the ground.

There Harry sat. And he sat. And then he sat some more.

An hour or a day could have passed and Harry wouldn't of known the difference. He'd run out of tears days ago. He didn't have the energy to move. He just sat there.

By now, most everyone had recovered from their injuries. Seamus was discharged from St. Mungo's the same evening after they'd reset a few broken bones. Angelina suffered broken ribs and was found unconscious. At first it was thought she might not make it but she responded to treatments and she pulled through. She was released a few days ago.

Bill had been caught under the rubble with Seamus and he'd injured both an ankle and a shoulder on his right side. He also suffered burns on his wand hand that would take an extraordinarily long time to heal due to their nature but he was fine otherwise.

Fleur had suffered a severe concussion and bleeding was found in her brain. Her daughter's arm was so badly broken that initially they didn't know what to do. Madam Pomfrey was inspired by something she'd witnessed years before and she proposed what she called _The Harry Potter Treatment_. They banished the broken bones away altogether and gave Victoire a dose of skele-grow. Needless to say, the halls of St. Mungo's were filled with the sound of a screaming girl much of the night.

Hermione woke a few days after the entire affair. No-one could explain why she was so bad off in the first place...other than the minor fact that she'd just lost her baby, of course. Most strange was what happened when she woke. Ron also moved for the first time. He stood up to hug his fiance...only to collapse from exhaustion. Once both had recovered, they immediately were sent home to rest. Molly and Arthur had already moved into Lavender's old bedroom at Grimmauld Place after the attacks and they were there to help watch after the grieving couple.

Ginny had been brought in to St. Mungo's on a cot by Harry and Eliza. Eliza had been intent on speaking to Harry after they arrived but her body betrayed her. She feinted into Harry's arms due to blood loss and what was later found to be a poison closely akin to that found on Harpy talons. Both Eliza and Ginny eventually made a recovery but there was a question as whether the scars that covered Eliza's face and arms would ever fade. Ginny was still rehabilitating at St. Mungo's and despite her healer's insistence otherwise, she was determined to be ready for Quidditch the following season.

Harry had already attended the funeral for Iris and Gabrielle. Originally the Delacours had intended to have Gabrielle buried in France in their family's resting place. Being she was unmarried, it was their tradition. After a quiet conversation between only Hermione and the Delacours, they were convinced not only to bury their daughter's body in London but to have Hermione's baby buried in her arms. It was considered very odd by all those in attendance but the Delacours refused to give any explanation other than that it was what their daughter would have wanted.

Hermione refused to attend her daughter's funeral. In fact, while she had made plans with painstaking detail for the funeral, she refused to be anywhere near the town of London during the actual ceremony. Instead, she visited a nearby port and watched as the ships came and went.

Molly had cried hardest...drowning out even the sobs of Fleur Delacour. Arthur and Bill held their wives tightly as they too dropped an occasional tear. Originally, the Weasleys and the Delacours had asked Harry if he'd say a few words on behalf of Gabrielle. The thinking was that no-one had known her better during those past four months. He was scheduled to speak last...after her mother Appoline, her sister Fleur and her best mate at Beaubatons...Meri.

The young wizard tried to stand up and speak. He got up, walked up to the front and stood there. Suddenly he realised that he had absolutely nothing to say to all of these people. Everything that he and Gabrielle had shared - all they had done – had been private. None of them would understand the depth of the conflict he'd felt or the guilt he now felt for not properly caring for her. This witch had sacrificed herself for Harry. She fought to save Ginny so that Harry could be happy with the witch she knew he loved.

And she was right. Harry never had truly loved Gabrielle. He adored her. He desired her. He loved being around her. But that wasn't really love, was it? He wanted to love her. There were so many reasons he could give for wanting to love her.

But in the end, what they shared just wasn't the same as what he felt for Ginny. Gabrielle could satisfy him in every way except in that deep place in his heart. There was that hole in his heart that yearned for the witch that he'd grown up with. From the time that Ginny had lied near death on the basement floor of the Chamber of Secrets, there had been some small yearning in Harry's heart for her. It grew and grew over time until it blossomed his Sixth Year and he'd fallen madly in love with her. How could he possibly stand here in front of everyone and tell them about all of these things?

All of them were waiting for him to say something. His silence only made matters worse. Instead, he did the unthinkable. Because of the baby, it was decided that the service would be held with a closed casket. Most everyone, except Harry, had said their goodbyes during the viewing a day before.

Harry turned around and stepped up to the casket. He unlatched the small door that opened near Gabrielle's head and opened it. Then, amidst a hundred gasps, he leaned down into the casket and kissed Gabrielle one last time on the lips before whispering in her ear, "Thank you for everything. I really did love you, you know. I could have loved you more given the chance."

He then closed the casket and secured the fastener. As he turned around he noticed that all eyes were either on Ron or Mrs. Delacour. Neither seemed terribly upset but he wouldn't of cared if they were. He promptly returned to his seat as the funeral was brought awkwardly to a close.

Needless to say, no-one invited Harry to speak at Marianne's memorial. He stayed well out of the public eye and made it a point to watch from the shadows. That is until the letter. He'd once again made a scene in front of everyone by storming out.

And now he sat in the home of Dr. and Mrs. Mason reading that letter over and over again and wondering what he should do. He had no idea how or even if he could do as Dr. Mason asked.

A deep baritone shook him from his thoughts, "I'd wondered."

Harry looked up, "You aren't surprised?"

Shacklebolt shrugged, "I suspected something was wrong when you dashed out. I tracked that Muggle down and he told me he was the solicitor for the family. I put the two together and realised Matthew wasn't going to be there for the memorial. With everyone there, I made up an excuse for him and got it over with. Then I came looking for you."

The young wizard sat in shock, "You're weren't the least bit bowled over by the sight of him?"

"Of course," Shacklebolt answered. "But I was an Auror for several years. I've smelled death before and I could smell it the moment I walked through the front door. I've had a few minutes to compose myself." The Minister gestured to the letter, "What does it say?"

Harry handed him the note:

_Thursday 8 Nov 2001_

_Dear Harry,_

_I have spent the past week wondering what to do now that my dear Marianne is gone. I know that you and everyone else will feel that this is the coward's way out but I am left with no real alternative. I cannot care for my daughter in my present condition and it is more likely that she'd be forced to care for me._

_My condition has left us penniless. I have a small disability income and Marianne's pension would perhaps make do but there would be no-one to care for me when our daughter is gone to school. I doubt that Marianne ever let on just how much she was forced to do to take basic care of me. Madeline would feel obligated to stay with me and do the same. We can both agree that that is no life for a young girl. _

_My wife was too proud to accept your charity. She told me of the many times that you offered your assistance. I, on the other hand, lost much of my dignity and my pride when I was forced to come to terms with this awful illness. _

_My hope is that you will do what I cannot. Madeline needs to be raised by someone of her own kind. I could never quite understand her although I loved her dearly. I beg you to please help guide her through these years as she becomes a woman. Please take her in your home. Her mother has no family left to speak of and my family isn't even aware of her talents._

_I'm so very sorry for placing this burden on you. If I could think of any other way I would. _

_Regrettably,_

_Dr. Matthew Mason_

Shacklebolt handed the letter back to Harry, "He obviously had a great deal of faith in you."

Harry felt ready to burst, "Are you not the slightest bit upset that this bloke is dead here right in front of us? What do I tell his daughter?"

The Minister sat next to his mate and sighed, "I'd tell her the truth, Harry. I'd tell her that he was very ill, that the loss of his wife was too much for him and he passed away painlessly in his own bed."

The young wizard raised his voice, "But that's not what happened and you know it! He just went and..."

"If you want to get into specifics," Shacklebolt advised, "You go right on ahead. You've seen enough of the world now to make your own choice, Harry. However, what good do you possibly think will come of telling her exactly how he died? Don't you think that her father deserves at least this one last bit of dignity? He wrote you for a reason. My guess is that he hoped you'd be discreet."

"But..."

"What do you think _Marianne_ would want you to do?"

Harry remembered how desperately Marianne had hidden the extent of her husband's illness from her daughter until it was just too difficult to do so. He remembered how his former partner would try to hide the economic hardship so that her daughter wouldn't worry. He knew exactly what Marianne would do in his position.

The young wizard picked himself up. He stepped over to the bed where his partner's husband lie. One by one he picked up the pills that were spread out near the pillow and placed them in the bottle. Once he'd gathered them all up, he stuffed the note that Dr. Mason had written inside the bottle of pills. With a pop of his wand they were banished.

"What am I going to do about Madeline?" Harry asked. "I don't know the first thing about raising a young witch."

"You'll have help," Shacklebolt promised. "I promise."

Never did Harry or Kingsley utter a word to anyone about how Madeline's father died except to repeat what was typed on his Muggle Death Certificate: _Complications due to Multiple Sclerosis_.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Much of Harry's conversations with Ginny the next few days dealt with young Madeline. As she fought to take another step he explained, "It's not the same as with Teddy. His grandmother does most of the heavy lifting with him. She asks me to pop in and show him what it's like to be a bloke. With Madeline, she moved in her things just before she returned to school. I'm it. Am I supposed to be her dad? I'm scared to death."

Harry's resignation from the Ministry had been processed soon after the attacks and he was left with an extraordinary amount of time. It was decided that while Arthur and Molly helped their youngest son gather together the pieces of his life that Harry would help rehabilitate Ginny at St. Mungo's. Ginny, of course, had to learn how to walk again. She was more motivated than most because until she could walk under her own power, the healers would not sign off on her return to practise with the Harpies. The Healers had long ago stopped telling her she may not ever make it back. Ginny's glares were bad enough but the Potter boy could be absolutely scary.

But by the third week of November even she was discouraged. Both her hands held firmly to two parallel bars as she stumbled through each step, "She's just just as scared as you are, Harry. You need to write to her as often as you can so she knows she's welcome when school lets out for winter holiday."

"But what do I write about?" Harry asked. "I doubt she wants to talk about her mum and dad with me. I can't write about the blokes. And shouldn't I be keeping an eye on the blokes? What if she's..?"

"Whoa! Love, you're getting ahead of yourself," Ginny answered soothingly. "I'll help you write the first few." The young witch tripped, "Oy!"

"Are you all right?"

She nodded uncertainly. Her shoulders had caught her fall when her hands slipped. She'd have bruises under her arms tomorrow but it was her legs that felt like jelly. A terrible shock had travelled up her spine when she'd fallen and had sapped her of her energy.

"Maybe you need to lie down for a few," Harry offered.

"No," Ginny insisted, "I need to do this. I need to be ready for the next season. Practices are only a few months away."

Harry wasn't so sure. Her hair was drenched in sweat although the room was cool. She looked like she could collapse at any time. The young wizard was a little more assertive this time, "You won't be ready for the season if you work yourself so hard that you reinjure yourself. This is your back...not an arm or a leg."

Ginny sighed. Knowing he wouldn't back down, she waited for him to get in position so he could guide her back to the bed. Carefully he held her so that most of her weight was on him but she did her best to use even this time to relearn to walk. "Ruddy legs!" she complained as she slipped near the bed. Only Harry kept her from collapsing altogether.

"Don't fight me," he growled crossly. "If you don't trust me then I can't help you."

"You can help me when I need a sponge bath," she winked, "but I need to try to walk under my own power as much as possible."

Harry smiled. He cared for her deeply but, truth be told, she did not look her best. Aside from sweaty matted hair, she was a mess. Her face and arms hid hints of black and yellow from where the bruises had been. The scrapes were gone along her cheek but there was still a small patch on her scalp from where the hair had been ripped out when she hit the ground. She'd just begun eating solid food again so she had a ways to go before she looked healthy. She even smelled odd – baths were few and far between with a broken back.

But he didn't care. Ginny was Ginny. Just being near her made him smile.

"What?" she asked.

"You're beautiful," he answered happily.

"And you are a terrible liar," she teased. Despite her doubts it really did feel good to be told she was pretty. She could feel her cheeks warm, "What say I help you out with that letter to Maddie?"

"I say that would be brilliant," Harry admitted. He opened up a drawer near the bed in search of parchment and a quill.

Ginny thought out loud, "You know, the more I think about it Harry, the more I wonder if you're not right about the blokes. With her mum and dad gone she's going to feel lonelier than ever and if I were a young girl I might turn to boys for attention. Nothing takes your trouble away faster than when a boy who makes you feel special. There'll be at least one wizard there willing to take advantage of her moment of weakness and if she opens up to him he might even be willing to flatter her to seal the deal."

"Seal the deal?" Harry had heard that term more than once amongst a few of the blokes in his year. Seamus used it with such frequency that it caught on in the Gryffindor Commons their Fourth Year. It sounded odd coming out of Ginny's mouth.

"Not all wizards are like you," she reminded him. "Think of Seamus with some game. Every house had one. In Slytherin it was Draco. In Ravenclaw it was Boot. In Hufflepuff it was Diggory. No-one in Gryffindor ever had more game than my brother Charlie...except maybe Bill. He did bag a Veela for Merlin's sake."

This was where Harry and Ginny were different. She and Ron could carry on a conversation in the Gryffindor Commons or even at lunch that could make the entire House blush. While she carried herself with dignity, Ginny had no qualms speaking her mind on any subject.

"I'm only saying you need to keep an eye out," she explained. "It wouldn't hurt to put a subtle little scare in the blokes, either. From what I hear it wouldn't take much more than a stare from you."

The papers had reported all manner of rumours about what had happened at the Burrow that night. There stories of blackened corpses strewn across the property that had left many a volunteer with nightmares. There were no facts because no-one had seen everything. All that was known for certain was that the Burrow had been in such desperate shape before Harry had arrived that it had all but collapsed. Once Harry had arrived, accompanied by no more than a teenage Veela, all hell broke loose around the property and the attackers had been stopped cold. There were eighty-three bodies on the premises with similar markings and two others that had been hit by what one healer insisted was Fiend-Fyre. These pieces of information were fashioned together into all manner of sensational stories – no detail was left sacred.

"I don't think it would be wise," Harry considered. "I can have Neville go and give the boys a good talking to, though. That way if it gets back to her that the boys were scared off she won't see it as me interfering."

Ginny grinned, "Excellent idea. Do you have the parchment?"

Harry held up a good sized piece in one hand and a nice long quill in another.

"Excellent." She closed her eyes to think, "I'd make it short. Maybe three paragraphs. The first should be a few simple questions so she has a reason to write back. The second should be some simple news. Then the last might be something important with a question that you want her opinion on. How does that sound?"

"Do you write many of these? Harry asked, impressed.

"No. I read them. I learned after a few years that mum had a formula for every letter. She wrote them three times a week my second year because she worried I'd fall in with the wrong crowd after that ordeal my first year." Ginny opened her eyes, "Don't ask her about her marks. That'll make her clam up."

"Then what?"

"Hmmm..." Ginny thought and thought, "Oh! Ask her about how the last Quidditch match went. Also, ask her if she needs a dress for the Christmas Party at Slughorn's...you need to send him an owl informing him that if she's invited you'll be there."

Harry had been scribbling but he looked up, "Slughorn retired, remember? He's England's diplomat to France now."

"Bugger!" Ginny barked as she snapped her fingers. The sudden jerk of the arm caused her to wince. "I know! Ask her how George's place is doing these days and ask her if he's still sneaking into the castle. She'll know if he is."

"Excellent idea," Harry answered as he continued to scribble away.

"Make that legible," she teased. Her smile was all that held his glare at bay, "Now write about something in _your _life."

The young wizard did as instructed. He wrote a good sized paragraph.

Ginny watched patiently as she waited for him to finish, "Done?"

He nodded.

She'd been thinking while he was writing. Actually, she'd been thinking for a while. Ever since she'd woken up in the infirmary she'd waited for Harry to bring up his feelings for her. She hadn't dared start the conversation.

Ginny feared she'd wait forever at the rate things were going. They'd discussed everything but their future. It was obvious how he felt. He wasn't spending all of this time helping her recover because he was a Harpies fan. Certainly he could be doing it for her mum but if that were the case then he'd be at Grimmauld Place with Ron and Hermione while mum was here with her.

Inspiration came over her, "Write this."

Harry licked his lips in concentration as he dabbed the quill in the ink. He'd taken to licking his quill tips again and he had a black spot on his lip. It was the small things that made her want to kiss him.

She cleared her throat before she began dictating, "Ginny's been working hard at this whole recovery business. She insists on wearing herself out trying to walk again. It worries me. All the same, she's asked me if I'd ask something of you." She watched him closely as he scribbled away. He never had learned proper handwriting and she knew he was fighting to keep up while printing his block letters. When she could tell he was nearly caught up she continued, "Ginny is sure she'll be able to walk by mid-December. If so, she's wondering if you'd be willing to be her maid of honour at our wedding."

The scribbling stopped abruptly. He had been trying so hard to keep up with her that he really hadn't heard what she said...until the word wedding forced him back to reality. Had she really said what she had said? Why? Why would she possibly ambush him with such a question in such a way?

Ginny could tell immediately she'd made a mistake. She wanted to fill the silence but she couldn't think of anything to say. Harry fidgeted and fumbled around with the quill as he too wrestled with a response. She watched helplessly as his eyes moistened and he abruptly mumbled that he had to go. He was embarrassed and felt wrong for doing it but he simply couldn't be there for one more second. He fought as hard as he could to hold his emotions in check as he rushed out of the room.

With no way to get out of bed on her own there was impossible to follow him to apologise. What would she say, anyway? Even worse, he thought he was safely away but she could still hear him just on the other side of the door.

She'd been selfish and insensitive. She'd forgotten, or maybe ignored, the truth. Yes, he'd poured all of his time into helping her because he cared for her. But maybe he'd also spent all of his energy helping her because it was his way of distracting himself from the pain of losing someone he cared deeply for.

ginny could tell that he'd finally gathered himself together enough to walk away. No longer could she hear the sniffs. She began to grow curious. The young witch leaned on her side as carefully as she could hoping to avoid a shot of pain down her spine. Slowly, carefully, she stretched to reach for her wand. It was just within reach and she trapped it on the end of her fingers.

When she'd safely returned to her back, she flicked her wand at the parchment and it floated over to her. She read it slowly. Arrgh, she hadn't read anything of his in a while. If she'd even read the first sentence she'd have known that he was feeling much worse than he let on. Harry tended to print in all lower case when he was sad:

fri 23 nov 2001

_how's hogwarts? i miss the place dearly. there are times i wish i was still there. it was always so easy to forget the foolishness of the rest of the world when i was there. simple things like quidditch...how is quidditch this year? gryffindor must have played their first match by now. i wish we'd have had a place like george's there when I was a student. have you caught him sneaking around the castle lately?_

_i know i haven't written much over the years. honestly, i'm lonely and you might be one of few in the world that can understand. my parents were taken from me when I was very young. each and every time i begin to care for someone, they are taken from me. even now, my heart is split in two. i love ginny with every fibre of my being but how am i supposed to be happy with her knowing that gabrielle's life was the cost? these questions are not the types of questions that a terrific young witch like you could or should have to answer but i'm sure you have plenty of your own. it's all right to have them, to be angry, to wish for unfair things. i wish for some of the most unfair things just before i fall asleep at night. you may not need someone to talk to about what is going on in your life but i know there are times when i wish someone was there that would understand how i feel. _

_i'd like your input regarding something important. ginny's been working hard at this whole recovery business. she insists on wearing herself out trying to walk again. it worries me. all the same, she's asked me if i'd ask something of you. ginny is sure she'll be able to walk by mid-decemb_

Ginny shook her head at her stupidity. She'd started innocently enough trying to help him. Then, while he was writing, she'd been struck by inspiration. She had thought the letter might be a neat way of proposing. Blokes did it all the time. Now she knew why wizards were left to the proposing and the witches were left to say yes or no.

Since the day she'd sent that letter turning down Harry's proposal she'd regretted her decision. Sure, it was necessary. If anything, she reminded herself with every fall off her broom and every broken bone that she was doing what she was doing so that she could return to Harry as a worthy equal. Her happiness had been the cost of her career and she'd be damned if she was going to fail after such a tremendous sacrifice. So, she drove herself to succeed so that she could come back to the one she loved with something she could show for their time apart.

Now she was ready. Ginny had been shown that every moment of life was precious and that there was no reason to waste time waiting. Unfortunately, she'd been so wrapped up in her own feelings that she'd all but ignored Harry's pain.

She didn't know how she'd make this right. She didn't know if she could. What was it about the two of them? Maybe they just weren't meant to be.


	50. TP 50 The Ties That Bind

**Chapter 50 – The Ties That Bind**

**Submitted: Monday 11 Feb 2013 Last Submission: 6 Feb 2013**

**SPOILER ALERT: The previous chapter was released less than a week ago. This is the last chapter and their will be spoilers if you read ahead.**

**A/N: This is the last chapter of the story. There will be another chapter that I plan to repost once a week when I begin _Mirror of Madness._ I've already posted the first chapter so you may follow it. As for Aphrodite's Kiss – this is it. I know the marriage of Harry and Ginny is among the most overdone stories in the genre so I hope I did it justice. I hope even if you've never reviewed before you will leave me one saying whether you liked the ending or not - but don't accidentally give the ending away to anyone reading the reviews. **

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><p>Harry couldn't stand still. Just as he'd thought he'd walked the anger off a new wave would crash over him. He wanted to leave the house but he was afraid of what he'd say or do in public if he did. Instead he paced around Grimmauld Place and vented his frustrations out loud.<p>

"I can't believe she had the nerve. After all of this time she waits until right after Gabrielle dies? The soil hasn't even settled on her grave. How am I supposed to feel?"

"How are you supposed to feel about what?" asked a familiar voice. Harry turned to find Hermione standing there in her comfiest pyjamas and a pair of bunny slippers Ron had once bought her as a joke. He hadn't seen her since she'd been released from St. Mungo's. Her face was sallow and pale as if she hadn't been outside in days. Well, of course she hadn't.

"Well?" she repeated.

"Hermione!" Harry had both arms around her before she could answer. She giggled for the first time that she could remember when he picked her up in a bear hug. As he released her he asked, "How are you?"

"Never better," she answered sarcastically. Noticing the disappointment on his face, she corrected herself, "I actually _do_ feel better seeing you. I don't know why but seeing a smile on your face always makes me smile too." She must have been telling the truth because she was indeed smiling as she said it. "So what is this business you're going on about? What did who do?"

Harry frowned, "I don't want to bother you with my troubles."

"Oh yes," Hermione countered, " because I'd _rather_ think about _my_ troubles. I think I'd feel a lot better if I was able to worry about someone else's troubles for a moment or so at least."

He couldn't argue with that logic. Harry shrugged and began to explain the exchange between him and Ginny not an hour before. She hadn't heard about Dr. Mason or that Harry had been charged with caring for Madeline...the family thought she had enough on her mind at the moment. When he got to the part about the letter, Hermione pursed her lips.

"So," Hermione sat down and beckoned Harry to do the same, "Let me make sure I understand what you are saying. Ginny asked you to marry her?"

"Not quite. She sort of..."

Hermione's voice grew more stern, "Ginny asked you to marry her?"

"Aye," was Harry's only reply.

"And you've been pining over her for how long?"

The young wizard sighed, "Since forever it seems."

"And you didn't say 'yes' because...?"

Harry's face twisted into a question mark, "Why didn't I say yes? Are you bleeding mad?"

"This isn't the time to ask that," Hermione reminded him. "Love, you need to think this through. The two of you have loved each other since I can remember. Most anyone else I'd beg they wait to marry until they've had time to recover but the two of you are the exception. You may not have another opportunity. You can work all the other mess out as you go along but there isn't another witch in England that would put up with you and your moods."

"There _was _one," Harry grumbled quietly.

"**Stop** that!" Hermione barked as she pointed a stern finger at Harry. "No-one...I'm mean, **No-One**...gets to feel pity around me for love lost or lost lovers or any sort of rubbish like that. Do you understand me?"

Harry watched quietly as she fought back the tears and the shivers. She'd come so far just being able to carry a conversation. When he was sure she was calm, he asked, "How do I get past what happened to Gabrielle?"

"Is that what this was all about?" Hermione asked. Her eyes seemed to leave the room.

Harry didn't notice. Instead he asked, "Do you know how hard it is for me to look at Ginny and not think about what I did to Gabrielle?" His heart threatened to choke him, "All she did was love me. I made her feel unwanted."

Hermione stood over Harry. Again she pointed a finger at him as she repeated her new favourite word over and over again, "Rubbish! Rubbish Rubbish Rubbish!" She tried in vain to regain her composure, "I know better!"

Harry watched Hermione carefully. She was now cradling herself as she seemed to be in another world. He slowly got up and tried to hold her. For his troubles he was rewarded with a a push and a glare.

He tried again. As he wrapped his arms around her, he asked softly, "You know what?"

The young witch hadn't told anyone, except Mr. and Mrs. Delacour, about the night on the pier. How could she have given up her baby so easily? Iris was hers. But Gabrielle had been so good with her. Iris had been so happy with her. Gabrielle had only asked for one thing. It was an important thing, she knew, but how could Harry understand unless she told him everything?

"I gave her up," was all she could say. She tightened her grip on her best mate. It was all the young witch could do not to just quit and go back upstairs. But she'd promised. She gathered her courage and told the story from the time Gabrielle had walked up to her on that pier until she'd wished her way back to the land of the living. Harry never interrupted. He let her tell the story from the beginning to the moment she handed her baby to Gabrielle. When she grew silent the young wizard didn't even prompt her to continue. Instead, he held her until she had a chance to collect her thoughts.

And the moments passed.

"You probably wonder," she finally asked, "what was so important that she wanted me to tell you."

"No," Harry answered as he brushed her hair out of her eyes, "I was just thinking that I finally understand why your daughter now rests with Gabrielle."

Hermione couldn't bear to look up. It seemed so foolish now that she thought about it.

"I get it." Harry lowered himself enough so that he forced her to look him in the eyes, "Why not rest them together here if they are together there? It only makes sense." He took her by the shoulders, "You are a good mother. Do you know how hard it would be for anyone to give up their own happiness so that their child could be happy?"

She wrapped her arms around Harry and hugged him fiercely. He would have gotten a mouthful of hair if he hadn't have turned his head. Her next words came out as a sigh, "Gabrielle wanted me to tell you that you need to move on."

Harry didn't know how to respond.

"She said," Hermione continued, "that she knew it was going to hurt. She wanted me to explain how precious every moment of life is and that you can't go on being sad about her unless you wanted to regret your entire youth away. What is the use of that? What good will love do you if you are a lonely old bloke?"

"But."

"I'm not finished," Hermione chided. "She said she came back for Ginny because she loved you but that she couldn't have ever loved you that much if you didn't care for her too. She knew how you felt about her. She asked me to ask you not to waste your time blaming Ginny, though. Gabrielle said that if you don't get past this then your last chance with Ginny will be lost and you truly will have made her sacrifice a waste. Gabrielle's gone for good. There is no amount of gnashing of teeth that will change that."

Hermione used the silence to allow those final words sink in. Somehow it made her feel stronger to be able to help Harry with his own pain. She still didn't feel like leaving the house but for once she felt like eating. Tonight might be the first that Molly wouldn't have to convince her to swallow each bite.

"I made a fine mess of things," Harry finally answered. "If I could have been there just a few minutes soo..."

The **SLAP** might have been heard throughout the house. This time Hermione's finger pressed into Harry's chest and a ferocity overcame her that even she was unaware she could muster, "You will _not _cheapen what happened with such utter crap! You can't _save _the world Harry! I will not have you forfeit your soul just to lengthen the lives of a few innocent people! If I _**ever **_see you take the life of another bloke with magic so help me I'll strike you down myself! What was it that Dumbledore said to you at King's Cross?"

"Do not pity the dead," Harry remembered, "Pity the living...particularly those that cannot love."

"Exactly!" Hermione huffed. "Now what are you doing? You're pitying Gabrielle when you could be comforting a young witch that needs you much more. You're pitying my daughter when you should be worried about yourself. If you don't begin to atone for what you've done then your hatred will eat you alive."

"What about you?" Harry asked sardonically. He flinched when she raised her hand. She was forced to smile inwardly despite her anger.

"It's hard to explain," Hermione admitted. "It's different when it's your own child. I can't even explain how I was able to pull myself out of bed today. Ron's still up there asleep. When your child dies it is like a part of you dies as well."

It was a good thing Harry's better judgement kicked in. He was about to say she should take her own advice. Something in her eyes told him that she wouldn't be able to take much ribbing. Instead he decided to take her advice to heart. He didn't feel any better by what she'd told him but he did know what he had to do next.

ZZZZZZZ

Ginny lie on her side staring at the wall next to her cot. She wasn't sure what to do. It wasn't like she could muster her mates to track Harry down. Harry was the sort of bloke that you didn't find unless he wished to be found. She still wasn't sure exactly what she would say if she could find him, anyway. She could say she was wrong. She could say it was too soon. Maybe even...

"I'm sorry," a voice suggested.

"What good would that do?" Ginny answered herself.

"I don't know. I hoped it would be a start," the voice offered.

Realising for the first time that the voice was not a product of her own imagination, Ginny laboured to roll over to her other side. Argh! Her pyjamas got all bound up and she was caught between the idea of turning all the way over and fighting to readjust.

"Here," Harry offered as he placed a vase of flowers on the side table. He took the time to carefully unbunch her pyjamas along her side and even around her legs. Despite her frustration, she couldn't help but blush as she felt the warmth of his hands pass right through the cotton. It wasn't so much his touch as the fact that he paid such careful attention to her comfort. Well, actually it was the touch.

"Thanks," she finally mustered. Her eyes found the vase, "Delphinium? How did you know? My favourites were always orchids when I lived at home because mum..."

"...would trim them and give you the biggest one. You'd prance around the house with it and show it off to whoever you could find when you were a little girl." Harry had heard the story more times than he could remember, "You'd go on and on about how you were a Japanese Princess."

He picked up the vase and let her sniff the flowers, "Leroy once asked you what your favourite flower was when you were answering fan mail before a match. You said your favourite used to be orchids but when you joined the Harpies one of the witches turned you on to Delphinium."

"Isa," Ginny remembered. "A wizard brought them for her and she showed them off to all of us. They didn't have them in Spain and she couldn't take her eyes off them.. Neither could I. Just look at them. How many of my matches did you listen to?"

"More than I should have," Harry admitted as he shuffled his feet.

"I never saw you amongst the crowds. I'd look. Did you ever go to a match?"

"No," Harry thought back. "Except one."

Ginny knew by his tone which one he was referring to. She'd treated him so poorly that day. It was amazing thinking back. All of that now seemed so unimportant. At the time she thought he agreed to the match to show her up. It was only after Leroy showed her the letters from Harry imploring the Quidditch League to let him out of his commitment that she regretted her pettiness. Harry had made it very clear that the last thing Ginny needed that early in her career was yet another attachment to him in the media.

But he didn't let up in the match. Harry refused to give an inch and in the end there was still debate amongst those in attendance who'd caught the snitch first. Each ended up with a wing. She didn't even want to think about what sort of row would come out of even bringing up who actually won the match. Both felt in their heart of hearts that they had won.

"But you remembered the flower?" she finally asked. "What else do you remember from your days spent listening to the wireless?"

Harry grinned, "You have said more times than I can count that you want to break the record for consecutive Quidditch Cups before you retire. You do realise that you put a big target on your back every time you say that, don't you?"

"Let them fire away," she replied. "I'll win six if it kills me."

Not a word had to be said. All that was necessary was an arch of the eyebrow and a glance at Ginny's legs.

"You can doubt me," Ginny countered, "but I will get out of this bed and onto that broom before Quidditch season."

"I don't doubt you. I've been here alongside you for that very reason. You can do it. It's a lot of hard work but you can do it. You need to trust me, though, when I say you've overdone it for the day."

The young witch considered Harry for a moment. He was acting as if nothing happened. She wondered if she was supposed to play along and everything would be all right.

"There's only one other problem," Harry mentioned nonchalantly.

"What's that?" Ginny asked.

"How are you going to win six championships in a row if we are married?"

And there it was. The question that had been hanging over them since he'd walked in the door was now out in the open. She hadn't expected it brought up in such a fashion, though.

"Well, erm..." she stuttered. "I hadn't thought that far..."

"Didn't you make a pact that you'd stay at the field-house during the season?"

"Yes," she answered reluctantly.

"And didn't you agree you wouldn't have any contact with blokes the weeks before matches?"

"Yes."

Harry sighed, "How are we going to be properly married if we spend all of our time apart?"

The young Harpy was quiet, "I don't know. We can figure it out. George and Angelina do it."

"I'm a wreck, Ginny. I'm above pretending that I didn't care for Gabrielle. I know I'm supposed to act as if you are the only witch I've ever cared for but that night my life got very complicated. I feel like I should wait until these feelings go away but Hermione says..."

"I spoke to her," Ginny interjected.

"Hermione? When?" Harry asked.

"No. Gabrielle." Ginny could feel her throat tighten up, "I didn't mean to cause all of this mess by proposing but so many things happened."

Harry listened as she described the night on the pier and even went into details about Hermione. It reminded him so much of his evening at King's Cross with Dumbledore. Parts of their story meshed together precisely. He was fascinated when she explained how Gabrielle rode in on her horse and persuaded his former girlfriend to return.

"Gabrielle wanted me to come back and care for you," Ginny explained. She convinced me I was the only one that could do it and that I should live my life as if every moment was my last. I've spent the past week hoping you'd make the first move and when you didn't the proposal just slipped out."

"Regardless of what Gabrielle asked of you," Harry answered sadly, "I can't make these feelings go away. It'll take time."

"We have time. I love you and you love me. What is the difference if we get married and figure it all out afterward?" Ginny asked.

"It wouldn't be right," Harry complained.

"For who? For me? For the Delacours? For Fleur?"

Silence was Harry's admission that he didn't know.

Ginny pushed harder, "I'll wager my broom that anyone that knows us would gladly give their blessing."

"What about Madeline?" Harry asked. "I can't expect you to share in that responsibility."

Ginny glared at Harry, "You most certainly can. Do you think I'm going to allow you to raise that poor girl on her own? I couldn't imagine what irreparable damage you'd do to her if you were her sole source of life advice."

"But..."

There was a lot of Molly in her response, "I've had it with the buts. If I have to get out of the bed and..."

That brought up Harry's final objection, "But you can't and we aren't getting married before you can. I'm not standing in the way of your recovery. I know how much you want to return to the Harpies and that is more important than marriage arrangements."

Was that all it would take to seal the deal? Ginny smiled, "How about this? We set a date for mid-December? If I can't walk on my own by then, I will wait as long as you want to get married. If I can walk on my own and I'm cleared by the team to play then the wedding goes as planned. We'll work out our problems as they come."

Harry thought on her proposal for a moment. He thought she might be able to walk by early February or mid-January but she was mad if she thought she could walk in less than a month. Somehow, the unlikelihood of it all swept away the last of his fears. He decided that if she could walk by mid December then it must be fate, "Why don't we just say December 15th then?"

"What day of the week is that?" Ginny asked.

"The day we get married," he smiled. "Provided you can walk."

ZZZZZZZ

The next day Harry found he'd need a shoehorn to get himself into Ginny's room. Trainers and designers and all sorts of other witches and wizards were filing in and out St. Mungo's with such regularity that the staff decided that the Weasley girl was ready to be discharged. Madam Pomfrey had volunteered to care for the young witch as she progressed through her treatment from home."

The problem was that no-one rightly knew where Ginny should go. She had her flat near the Harpy pitch but it was too small for her to rehabilitate her back. The Burrow was in such a shambles that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had moved into Grimmauld Place.

Harry offered for Ginny to move into his room at Grimmauld Place. He pointed out that his room had been set up with Ginny in mind from the beginning. In addition, he mentioned that Ginny's trainer could stay in the adjoining room. He had all unnecessary furniture removed so that there was plenty of room for Ginny to work on her rehabilitation.

Painted in Harpy colours, she felt like she was home from the moment she moved in.

The young wizard moved downstairs in the final guest room that joined the Sitting Room. He spent afternoons watching helplessly as the parade of healers, trainers and wedding planners puffed in and out through the Floo in the Sitting Room. Ginny was determined the wedding was going to happen and she began progressing physically at a frightening pace. By the first of December she was already taking a step or two at a time without anyone holding her at all. By the fifth she was no longer using the parallel bars.

Molly nearly blasted him when she found out he agreed to a wedding on such short notice. After two weeks his adopted mum began following him around Grimmauld Place complaining about things like, "There's no place to have it. No-one has been invited yet. There's no possible way get the necessary flowers in time. Ginny can't possibly be fitted for a dress in her condition."

On the Fifth of December, Harry finally threw up his hands and summoned Kratchak.

The old goblin did not answer the summons of many wizards. Kratchak was the manager of Gringotts Bank in London and only half a dozen wizards in all England had the power to make the goblin appear with the snap of his fingers.

Kratchak's hook nose looked as if it might have grown since Harry had seen him last. The bank manager didn't look at all happy to be interrupted at whatever he'd been doing but when he saw Harry he stood straight up, "How may Gringotts serve you this morning, Mr. Potter?"

"I'm getting married in ten days," Harry finally admitted to himself. "Mrs. Weasley says it can't be done. Will you _**please**_ find someone who can help her make all of the impossible things possible? I want Ginny Weasley to have her dream wedding. Spend what you need to make it possible."

"Oh no," Molly chimed in. "Arthur and I have discussed this. We are handling the wedding. It is the duty of the family of the bride..."

Harry hadn't raised his voice to Mrs. Weasley in some time. Today he found he couldn't help himself, "You can't have it both ways, Mum. I got us in the mess by agreeing to a wedding in an impossibly short time. Either you go upstairs and tell Ginny the wedding is postponed or take this poor goblin upstairs and decide what we need."

"Oh no!" Kratchak backed away as if being threatened with leprosy, "I will return with a goblin that will take care of _**all**_ of your needs!"

The 'poof' was a notable difference from the 'Crack!' of the elves. Needless to say, Kratchak was back in moments with a goblin who looked ready for anything, "I am Snaggletooth. How may I be of service?"

"Mrs. Weasley and her daughter are preparing for a wedding. It's in ten days. There are still many things to be done," Harry explained. "You can go on upstairs with her now. Spend whatever you need to get it done."

The poor goblin gaped at Kratchak as Molly dragged him upstairs after her. Kratchak's eyes gleamed with victory as he explained, "His family is influential. I am constantly asked to assign him our more powerful clients. When I asked who would like to help with an important task for Mr. Potter his nose promptly left the tail of my Accounts Manager and he strutted up to me like a proud puppy. Little did he know what was getting into."

With the weight off of his shoulders, Harry only had one concern, "As long as he can get the job done."

Kratchak smiled, "One thing with a butt-kisser – they usually get the job done beyond expectations – **and then they remind you of it until it drives you insane**."

A quiet 'poof' told Harry there was no need to respond.

ZZZZZZZ

Mr. Dursley had seen odd comings and goings before. Just over twenty years ago he'd noticed all sorts of strangeness and it had resulted in the worst ten years of the bloke's life.

Today, a similar pall seemed to shadow an otherwise happy day. He'd just been promoted and he was bound and determined to get home early to take his wife and son out to celebrate.

It started with a small group of oddly dressed folks standing around outside his offices. He overheard them discussing 'the Wedding of the Century' and the fact that the entire affair could be seen as if it was a cinema flick. One of them asked what a cinema was and another answered that it was a room where they showed pictures moving around. "What is the use of that?" asked another witch which caused a row.

Christmas was coming and that reminded Mr. Dursley that he'd promised his son a new tellie. He wondered if he had time slip into a shop and take a gander at a few of the giant wide-screen models that had recently come into fashion. He'd heard that the oriental folk had become rather adept at making those screens wider and wider. Soon those little heathens would make a screen the size of a football pitch, he was sure.

When he arrived at the electronics shop he was shocked to see how full it was. It wasn't until he'd found the tellies that he noticed just who had filled the shop. The owner was busy walking around apologising to the customers, "I'm not sure why, but we are getting unusual static on all of our devices."

Mr. Dursley knew why. He pointed at one of the reasons, "You...you...you..."

The wizard answered back, "It is amazing isn't it?"

Mr. Dursley reached for his chest. There, on a whole wall of tellies, was at least thirty Harry's facing at least thirty red-headed witches and saying "I do!"

The shop owner seemed genuinely concerned for Mr. Dursley, "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Mr. Dursley eeked out. It's likely just a panic attack.

"Most amazing thing," the shop owner observed. "It began only twenty or so minutes ago. It's on _every_ channel. No-one I know has a clue who either one of them is but these blokes are obviously into it. It's being held at a castle in Scotland, they say. Maybe he's some sort of reclusive lord? He calls himself Harry Potter."

"I can't say," Mr. Dursley lied. He took the first opportunity to scramble out of the shop and rush home. To hell with dinner. He needed a drink.

**ZZZZZZZ**

George Weasley had the crowd roaring in laughter. Ron, still not feeling like speaking in public, deferred to his brother when offering the toast. George waited for the glasses to be emptied before announcing, "Please make way for Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter as they share their first dance!

Harry was still worried. Ginny still had a slight limp and he didn't want her to aggravate it. As they began circling the floor he kept an eye on her face for any sign of pain.

"What are you looking at?" she asked with a coy smile.

"You," Harry answered. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," the beautiful bride answered. She blew a stray strand of hair out of her face and he was once again reminded why he'd fallen so in love with her what seemed so long ago.

She'd never looked more beautiful. Her white gown had been hand picked from hundreds that were brought in by Snaggletooth. Models had paraded through Grimmauld Place one after the other at a near constant pace for at least two hours before Ginny had trimmed her options down to four. How the goblin found twenty models nearly her exact height and measurements baffled them all.

As the other guests joined them on the floor Harry whispered in her ear, "If you aren't up to it we can wait until morning to consummate..."

"Consummate?" she asked out loud. "Who says consummate? We aren't going to _**consummate**_anything. When we get to to the hotel we are going to make so much noise that the blokes staying on both sides of us will regret **they** didn't trade vows with me tonight." She giggled as Harry's cheeks warmed crimson, "Don't get too embarrassed. You knew who you were marrying when you stepped up to the dais."

And he did. She was his opposite in many ways. They complimented each other well. Normally she'd have more consideration for his bashfulness but tonight was her night and she wasn't going to squander it.

The music ended and the band was given a round of applause. Before Harry could offer a pithy retort he was interrupted by Mr. Weasley, "May the father have the next dance?"

Harry handed his new wife off to her father and found Mrs. Weasley, "May I have this dance?"

"Oh, Harry!" Molly's eyes were still moist. It didn't take her long to become mum again, though, "Snaggletooth told me a week ago that we didn't have a venue large enough for the wedding. We had to send the invites as _'Place to be divulged with RSVP.'_ How did you get Hogwarts to allow the wedding? They haven't accepted a request in nearly five centuries."

"There are a few advantages to celebrity," Harry grinned.

Molly studied her son, "I'm not buying what you're selling."

"Is the wedding everything you dreamed of?" he asked.

His mum nodded happily.

"Good," Harry answered. "Considering she is your only daughter and my only wife the trade was well worth it."

Molly tried to divine his thoughts but Harry was nothing like her sons. She held in her 'harrumph' and decided that she'd only ruin the night by fixating on the details. Instead she kissed her son on the cheek and finished out the dance.

Ginny and Harry didn't dance together again for the rest of the night. Actually, he barely got the opportunity to see her. He danced with an aunt of Ginny's that he forgot the name of. There was also Hermione, Luna, Hannah and several others. He regretted that Lavender was unable to attend...until he saw a figure hiding in the shadows with a hooded cloak covering her head and body.

The hooded figure gestured for him to come closer but he was cut off by none other than Professor McGonagall, "May I have this dance?"

Harry remembered the first time he'd been forced to dance with the professor. The ballroom lessons in this very hall had been unpleasant to say the least. Draco had all of the Slytherins in stitches as she'd criticised everything from his posture to his rhythm.

"Well?" the Headmistress asked. It wasn't really a question.

"Sure," Harry answered.

"Sure? Sure? Is that how the newest member of the Hogwarts Board of Regents speaks?" the Headmistress answered crossly.

"If I don't meet the school's standards..."

The Professor frowned, "You would think you'd be a little more appreciative of the favour that was afforded you."

"Favour? You call this a favour?" Harry tried to keep his voice down to avoid a scene, "That favour your _afforded_ me came at an awfully steep price. You knew I didn't want to join the board."

Minerva looked to her left and her right before hissing, "What choice did I have? The other spot was filled by Malfoy!"

Harry stopped dancing, "Draco is on the board?"

The Headmistress nodded and prompted him to dance, "He's already gathered up a voting bloc of just under half the board. His mum was angling to get the Zabini boy the other spot. You were the only wizard with enough cachet that the Minister could get you confirmed over him."

It made Harry so angry. It seemed when one threat was eliminated another merely popped up in its place. Minerva must have read his thoughts, "Don't worry, Mrs. Malfoy's only motivation is to use her son's place on the board as leverage to restore her family's prestige within the wizard community. As long as you are on the board, no-one will dare consider anything too foolish."

"I just hoped finally to have some peace."

The song came to a close and once again the band received a round of applause. Minerva took the opportunity to share a piece of wisdom, "Mr. Potter, regardless of how hard you try otherwise, the world will always find a balance between good and evil. For every Dumbledore there is a Grindelwald. For every Voldemort there is a Potter. For brief periods one side will dominate the other. Eventually, though, a champion will answer the call and the balance will return."

"So I should be looking for someone to take Voldemort's place?"

"Or that Dodson boy," Minerva agreed. "You should always be looking. Evil always lurks where you least expect it and will pop up the moment you let your guard down."

Harry could see the family gesturing him from near the cake. George was standing beside his brother Ron. Next to them was Ginny and Madeline...her Maid of Honour. "Please, everyone, make way for Harry so we may cut the cake."

The crowd split for the groom. He turned to Minerva and said quietly, "Marianne said something similar just before she died. I should have listened. I'll do what I can and I'll keep an eye on Malfoy. Please don't give me grief over every little thing, though."

"Go and cut your cake, Harry..." Minerva squeezed his shoulder as he walked off, "...And I promise only to give you grief when it's warranted."

ZZZZZZZ

Harry's feet hurt. His back was sore as well. Worst of all, he could still feel a few crumbs of cake lodged in his nose. Ginny had playfully jammed a piece in his face when they were feeding each other in front of the crowd.

Only after the crowd had begun to dwindle did he find his new bride, "Are we ready to go?"

Madeline looked disappointed and Ginny explained, "She asked if Hermione and I would visit the tower to kick off the after-party." She leaned into Harry and whispered so McGonagall wouldn't hear, "They have a special toast planned for me."

Harry looked from Ginny to Madeline and then back to Ginny. Madeline had such a hopeful look on her face that he couldn't bear it. He waved his hands towards the Gryffindor dorms and groaned in mock exasperation, "Go! Go! Go!" He winked at Madeline, "You owe me. Go have fun!"

"Do me a favour," Ginny asked Harry as Madeline rounded up Hermione and the other witches, "Go cheer up Ron. He's been down all night."

The groom kissed his new wife and did as asked. Ron was sitting at a table clear across the Hall. As Harry reached his best mate he grabbed a chair and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"You'd think I'd be feeling better," Ron admitted. "My little sis is now married to the second greatest bloke on Earth. All of the family is back together for the first time in years. Did you see Charlie earlier?"

"He looks like he's recovering well. That dragon tossed him clear off didn't he?"

"Aye," Ron grimaced, "He said it nearly tore off his leg with it's tail, too."

"His date was gorgeous though," Harry grinned.

"Hey!" Ron protested, "You just married my sister. You shouldn't be looking at other witches."

"Never stopped you," Harry countered. "I still remember you sharing with me in great detail how you got a glance of Lavender's bum as she went charging through the house one night."

There the Weasley grin was. Ron wasn't the type to stay down too long. Even so, his smiles had been few and far between for weeks. Now, though, it stretched from ear to ear as Ron reminded his mate, "Her bum wasn't all I saw."

"You are going to grow into a very dirty old wizard, aren't you?"

"Look, it is a testament to how much I love Hermione that I didn't chase her out the Floo. If ever there was a sight to behold...she positively glowed."

"The point is..."

"That Ron is a pig," Ginny answered with a wry grin.

"Aye. That I am." Ron agreed.

Harry checked his watch, "You didn't stay up there too long. I thought Madeline was going to give you a tour of the dorm."

"She did," Ginny answered. "Same old posters covered the walls. She asked me to give you her love. Are you ready to head out?"

Ron glanced toward the entrance, "Hermione promised to come back with you."

Ginny lowered her voice, "She was a feeling a little down. I think she decided to have a drink with them. There's a party up there."

"Perfect," Ron groaned. "I better get up there."

"Do you want us to go up with you?" Harry asked.

"No." Ron pointed to the Floo, "Go. Enjoy yourselves. What time do you leave in the morning?"

"After breakfast," Harry answered. "Ten maybe? We might lie in a bit."

"Hermione and I will try to drop in before you leave. If not, send us an owl when you get there. And send Antiones our regards."

Harry looked reluctant to leave, "Are you sure you and Hermione don't want to come along? If any two people deserve to get away it's the two of you."

"Ha!" Ron scoffed. "The last thing I need for the next week is to know that I'm only a room away from my sister on her honeymoon. Just bring her back in one piece."

Harry wanted to follow his mate up to the tower but Ginny tugged on his sleeve, "He'll be all right. They're having a party up there. It'll do him good."

Ginny didn't give her husband time to argue. He found himself chasing after her. By the time he caught up to her at the Floo she had already reached for a pinch of powder, "Ready?"

He held his breath as he took her hand. She flicked the powder into the Floo and called out "Royal Suite at the Savoy!"

Instantly they were transported to the most beautiful room Harry had ever seen, "Amazing! I wish I'd visited this place before I had Grimmauld Place renovated!"

Harry had to look around. Before Ginny could get a hold of him, he rushed out of the bedroom and found a Sitting Room that far surpassed his own. The chairs and sofa were a French style but he couldn't remember which.

"Rococo," Ginny offered when he asked aloud.

"How large is this place?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," she answered. "All I know if it takes up the entire fifth floor of the hotel."

"Really?"

Ginny nodded with a smile, "It has a full kitchen and dining room, a study and two bedrooms. I was just looking at the bath. I might have to take a nice hot steamy shower later."

"I thought you preferred baths."

"After I get through with you I'll need a shower!" She grabbed a hold of him and dragged him playfully, "What say we go and have a better look at the bedroom?"

In the bedroom, champaign was chilling nearby and the fire was crackling behind them. The sheets were turned down. The view of The Eye across the Thames was fantastic. At the moment the giant observation wheel glowed deep blue.

Still, something didn't seem right. He thought about it and it came to him. He needed to finish one part of his life to start another. He turned to Ginny, "Maybe it's finally time to put our past to bed. I've held on to it for far too long. Before I let go of it for good, is there anything else you need to know?"

Ginny grinned, "Is this really your first time?"

Harry laughed, "Is it yours?"

"Of course!" she squealed joyfully.

"Then it is for both of us," Harry answered confidently.

Ginny's eyes gleamed, "You do realise that when we do this it will close the final page on a chapter of our lives, don't you? Neither of us will ever be the same."

"Aye," Harry answered happily.

Mrs. Harry Potter pulled out her wand and as she stepped away from Harry she banished away her clothes. Batting her eyes, she turned on her heal and sauntered across the room as if she owned it. She was proud of her figure and she wanted to be sure he got a good long look before she slipped between the sheets.

Harry wanted with every fibre of his being to walk over to the bed and grab a hold of her and kiss her. He wanted so badly for this night to be special. For all of the time they'd spent fumbling around as teenagers, he was ready to make this night the night that both had been waiting for.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Harry could never remember feeling so content. Never in all of his wildest dreams had he thought that tonight would have ended so perfectly. While the evening hadn't lasted nearly as long as he thought it would, she'd seemed rather pleased. Ginny had grown up a lot over the years. In a way, he had as well.

He watched The Eye begin it's rotation through the window. Built just two years before on the South Bank of the Thames River, it was the tallest ferris wheel in the world. He'd been on it once before when he'd visited Jubilee Park. Never in his life would he have thought that he'd be looking at the beautiful landmark from here.

The pitter-patter of water stopped. Ginny had decided on that steamy shower after all and he was sure she must be towelling herself off. Moments later, she asked from behind, "You can't take your eyes off that thing can you?"

"No, not really. It's just so very simple. I could live here."

Ginny let out a loud "Harrumph!"

He turned over to face her, "I'm serious."

"Do you know how much this place costs?" his new bride asked. "It's more than two thousand Galleons a night!"

Harry laughed, "Really? Well, that makes me sad because this place is perfect."

"As perfect as me?" she let her towel fall to the ground as she sauntered over. He gulped as she climbed back into bed and slipped between the sheets next to him. He could feel her warm wet skin on his, "You didn't towel off very well."

"Nope." She gently tugged on his lower lip with her own. Ginny had always had the most perfect pink lips. He wrapped his arms around her and lost himself in the moment.

When they finally pulled away he couldn't help but look into her chocolate brown eyes and wonder how he'd waited so long. It certainly had been worth it.

She climbed on top of him with a smile meant for mischief, "Again?"

"Can we?"

"I was taught a spell or two. If you need a little help..."

Harry shook his head, "No...I don't think so."

The grin on his face was that of a young boy with a new toy. Ginny shook her head, "What I'd give to know what is going on in that mind of yours..."

Harry felt a disturbing case of deja vu. He remembered one morning not too long ago lying in bed. A young witch had sauntered in that morning from the shower. He still remembered the steam and the way she positively owned the room as she made a show out of the whole thing. She'd stepped out of the bath wearing not a stitch of clothing and asked, "What I'd give to know..."

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.

The Auror in him kicked in. He studied the room. She'd banished her clothes. Even so, her wand was not the familiar nine inch pine that he remembered, "You purchased a new wand?"

She stretched over him and picked it up. He couldn't help but feel the urge to forget everything as she shifted her weight. As she showed off the new wand she teased him, "Not as pretty as my other one but this one is more compact. I had to replace it after the attack at the Weasleys."

She sucked in a quick breath. He tried to throw her off of him. Effortlessly, she flicked her wand and bindings slipped out of it to tie down his wrists and ankles, "I've always wanted to use that spell."

Harry was trapped. The bindings held him just tightly enough to the posts of the bed to keep him from getting loose. It didn't matter. She had him pinned down in such a way that he wasn't going anywhere, "I really was hoping you'd wait a few more minutes before you figured things out. If you knew just how long I spent rehearsing so I wouldn't make a mistake just like that one. I apologise. I had planned a much more impressive physical demonstration to reveal myself.

"Who are you?" Harry asked in a panic. He was rewarded with more bindings. These warpped around his mouth.

A beating began at the door in the adjacent room. Ginny turned and sighed, "It looks like this will end quicker than I hoped. The potion should wear off soon enough."

She bent down and began whispering in his ear, "You couldn't just see me could you? All those nights I sat in your room and watched over you. Then all of those promises that night at the Weasley's about not ignoring me as you had before? You never even visited me at St. Mungo's after I carried that Weasley girl nearly a quarter of a mile to safety. You are such a self-righteous selfish..."

She sat up, "...Bah, who cares. Henry was so certain he'd killed Ginny. That Veela caught us just before I had the chance to check for myself. I had to kill her or she would have told you everything. I strangled her with my bare hands."

As the Polyjuice wore off, Ginny began to transform into Eliza right before Harry's eyes. This had been what Eliza had planned all along. It was the oddest sensation with her crouched over him. Her legs grew longer and she grew taller. She grew thinner and more wiry.

And she was _different._ No longer was she the beautiful redhead that he'd seen so many times strut across the room. She still had her natural beauty but the scars from Gabrielle's talons refused to fade. She noticed him staring in horror, "Yes, your girlfriend did all of this. I'm scarred for life. You'd think a witch who'd received top marks in Magical Creatures would have remembered that a Veela will transform into a Harpy when she's properly angered. However, I fought through it and _**strangled the life right out of her**_. Did you know I still had my hand on her throat when you arrived? I squeezed the life out of her right before your eyes and you didn't have a clue."

Harry began fighting his bonds. It brought a sigh out of Eliza, "Keep doing that. It feels good."

This caused Harry to lie perfectly still. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction. The beating had stopped at the door and now there was just the occasional crash. Eliza glanced back at the door, "They're not going to have any luck without some pretty powerful magic. I've prepared for this all week."

She returned her attention to Harry, "All I wanted was for you to love me. When you refused I thought I'd take it out on Ginny. I was the one that released all of those horrible blokes from Azkaban. I'd sent them to kill **her**. No luck at all – they were absolutely useless. That night, though, when I killed that Veela? I realised as I carried the Weasley girl to safety that I needed her alive. That way I could properly uphold my original promise."

"Do you remember the promise, Harry? I swore I'd be your first if it killed me. Do you remember?"

Eliza's eyes gleamed, "I needed her alive, though. What's the use of being first if it doesn't cause you the same amount of pain that you caused me? The pain of guilt? The pain of loss? You'll feel them much more deeply with her alive because I know you. It couldn't have been more perfect than if it happened on your wedding night. Now you've cheated on her with me just as I cheated with others when I pretended they were you."

"The bonus is that you can't possibly tell her. Oh, sure, telling her would clear _your_ conscience but it would break_ her _heart. She'd be devastated that her new husband had been duped into being with another witch on his wedding night."

She lowered her voice as if sharing a secret, "And best of all? I took the one thing from you that you always withheld from me."

Eliza placed her hands on her cheeks as if surprised and sucked in a deep breath, "Oh. But wait. What if you really wanted to be duped? Wouldn't you have noticed that I essentially repeated our first morning together or pranced around here just like I always pranced around? You're an Auror, Harry. You didn't notice that I didn't even bother to to the Floo at Hogwarts? I went so far as to drag you into the bedroom earlier!"

Harry shook his head in protest but the bindings on his mouth cut into his cheeks. She wagged a finger, "Oh, no, no...this is _**my**_ time to talk. Anyhow, you know there was some small part of you that wanted me and not her. Even if I look like this." She proudly displayed the scars that covered her body. Each was now a fine red line etched into her skin.

She pressed her finger into his chest, "I know what_** you**_ will do. You will act all noble and you will carry this to your grave. You won't tell her because you are too much a man to do so. Sure, if you cheated you'd tell her. But not this. You can rationalise in your mind that you thought I was her when you were together the _first_ time. You know...like when I rationalised that those blokes were you? Why would you hurt her, right?"

"So instead? You'll let that pain fester inside of you like an infection. Each anniversary when she reminds you how amazing you were for sharing that one gift that you always went on and on about? It'll dig the emotional dagger a little deeper and a little deeper into your heart until you lose the will to live."

"How do you feel now?" she teased. All along she'd been toying with him. It had been her goal from the beginning for him to know that he'd willingly been with her. Hmmm...willingly might have been too strong of a term. 'Maybe,' she thought to herself, 'it would be more accurate to say he couldn't stop himself.' She'd established a rhythm that rose and fell with her words. She knew he wouldn't be able to take much more.

He was forced to catch his breath as she lowered her lips to his ear, "Don't fight your feelings. Let go. Tell me how you really feel."

He found himself grabbing a hold of his bindings. He fought to keep from losing control but both his body and his mind failed him. The anger welled up within him and gushed out as he tried in vain to be heard.

A small blast shook the door in the adjacent room. Again, she turned her head, "Well, it looks like it's time for me to go. Oh..." She glanced down. She could feel him relax as he ran out of fight, "Well, I'd call that perfect timing."

She slipped off of him and walked toward the bucket of wine. As she pulled the bottle out of the ice she explained, "Don't worry, your bindings will slip off the moment the wine is uncorked. You really should have pulled the cork to let the wine breathe. It would have saved you a mess of trouble."

Eliza buried the corkscrew into the cork as she announced happily, "Good luck tonight. I hope you and Ginny enjoy your honeymoon!" She popped the cork and the bottle of wine disappeared with her.

Moments later the door finally caved in. Harry was already sitting clothed on the bed when Ron rushed in, "What happened?"

"I'm fine," Harry answered quietly. "She trapped me in here."

Ron exhaled, "I was worried. When I reached the dorms both Ginny and Hermione were still there. Ginny acted like I was a Nutter when I told her I thought she was downstairs. At first I thought she and Hermione were playing a prank on me. What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Not right now, anyhow."

Ron studied his mate carefully, "Are you ok?"

"No," Harry answered truthfully, "Not at all."

Eliza had been right about one thing when they'd entered the suite. Tonight had closed a chapter on his life. Unfortunately, the chapter didn't end nearly the way he'd hoped. He could explain away his time with what he thought was Ginny. What he couldn't understand was how Eliza so easily provoked him. He should have been able to control himself, right?

Instead, he played right into her plan. She got exactly what she wanted. She'd stared right into his eyes as she'd forced him to realise that there was a point when he could no longer fight. His body had betrayed him.

And now he felt like he'd betrayed Ginny.

He'd have to think on this. He didn't have much time. Ginny would soon want to celebrate. How could he convince her to give him enough space to think this through without explaining what had happened. Eliza had been right all along. He couldn't hurt Ginny just to clear his conscience.

What was supposed to be the best night of his life had quickly become the worst. A chance at a new beginning now felt like the end.


	51. TP 51 Laid to Rest

**Chapter 51 – Laid to Rest**

**Submitted: Fri 15 Feb 2013 Last Submission: Tues 12 Feb 2013**

**SPOILER ALERT: There was a chapter released earlier this week. Make sure you have read it before beginning this one.**

**A/N: I wrote this chapter Tuesday night after realising the last chapter might have ended the story a little suddenly. Let me know what you think.**

It didn't take her too long for her to find him. Even in the mist she could see him in her mind's eye.

With a trowel in one hand and a jar in another, he looked like one of those old gardeners that one might see piddling around the house years after they'd begun receiving their benefit checks. Grubby old jeans. A grungy old shirt. Shoes that had seen so many trips to the forest that even his most keen spells couldn't repair them. These rags had become his uniform when performing his morning ritual.

Lavender called out, "I've been looking for you."

"Who?" came a voice from above.

Lavender smiled when she saw the familiar owl perched on a crooked limb just above her, "Pandora! Come down here sweetie!"

Harry stood up. Mud had soaked through his clothes at the knees and elbows. His hair pointed every which way. Even so, his smile was proof that his early mornings at the Cemetery were therapeutic.

"Oy!" the young wizard complained to the owl, "You don't show _me_ that kind of love."

"Wh-who..." responded Pandora as she nuzzled up to Lavender. She held a treat happily in her beak.

"Oh, I see," the young wizard sighed, "Makes sense. She _buys_ your love."

"Conditional love is the most honest kind," Lavender quipped. "How've you been?"

Harry chuckled, "Like you don't know."

"I don't," she answered honestly. "Firenze had always told me that there would come a time when I would feel like my gift was a curse. Before he died he shared a ritual with me that would close off my visions for the most part. I don't even have to worry about all of that nonsense anymore." The joy in her voice was obvious.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Lavender repeated, "I couldn't take it any more. I felt like I was doing more harm than good. If you knew how much I was forced to see that I had no business or interest of ever seeing."

"Did you..?"

Lavender bit her lip. That evening had actually been what had brought her over the edge. She'd tried to warn him but he'd been pulled in every direction that evening. She could never get his full attention.

"I thought so," he answered quietly. "Not one of my better showings."

"On the contrary. I thought you were quite noble and brave."

"How so?"

"Harry," Lavender released the owl who flew back up into the tree, "You know how."

"Well," Harry countered, "She made it easy."

"That's just it, though. Most wizards would have seen the differences in the circumstances and they'd have lorded their witches." Lavender smiled, "Instead, you did the opposite."

**ZZZZZZZ**

Ron had convinced Harry to return to Hogwarts from the hotel. It didn't take Ginny long to figure out that something was odd. All the boys would say was that something had happened at the Savoy and their suite was in no condition for a honeymoon.

Instead the bride and groom decided on a walk outside at Hogwarts before returning to the house. They spoke about all manner of things that they should have discussed before they traded vows. Ginny learned quickly that she only knew a small sliver about the bloke she had married but each revelation made her more and more sure that she'd made the right decision.

By the time they reached the lake, Harry had gathered the courage to ask her about something that still gnawed at him, "Why wouldn't you return any of my owls?"

His new bride glanced down at her feet, "I didn't feel like I deserved you. All that talk about waiting for marriage. All it took for me was a few too many at a pub and the next thing I know I'm lying in bed wondering what I'd done. He wasn't even anyone special..."

"And you thought I'd think less of you over that?"

"It wasn't just one, Harry. I mean, it wasn't a lot. I went through a period in the off season after our first Championship wehre I felt lonely. I dated a few blokes and I was worried that if I didn't give them a reason to stay then they'd go. In the end they left anyway. I'd misread the whole thing. finally Gwenoth took me to a side and explained that to them I was just a conquest. After that I became very cold to everyone but my Quidditich mates. When you wrote I didn't even want to look at the letters. i was afraid if I told you then you'd think less of me."

They walked in silence for a while along the edge of the lake. Both of them let what she'd said sink in. Harry could tell that she felt ashamed and that even now she was consciously waiting to hear what he thought of her. He watched as she stared wistfully out over the water at the stars.

Harry stopped. With a gentle tug he gestured for his new wife to face him, "Did you really think I'd think less of you?"

She shrugged. It broke his heart. She reminded him of a young puppy waiting to be scolded.

"Ginny. You have nothing to be ashamed of. We both knew what might happen if we were apart." He gathered up what courage he could, "Do you want me to tell you something that happened to me recently? Something very foolish?"

She nodded appreciatively.

He thought for a few moments. He didn't want to lie. What exactly did he want to tell her? "This is something that is very hard for me to say. I'm going to be honest with you and tell you upfront that I'm not sharing the whole story because it would hurt people I care deeply about."

Harry took a deep breath, "I don't think I'd have to work hard to convince you that I could seem a bit self-righteous at times. Especially about the whole ordeal about wanting to wait for marriage."

He cringed when she nodded a little too emphatically.

"Anyhow," he continued, "One evening a witch put me in my place. I'd treated her rather badly. I made promises that I didn't keep. When I broke up with her I wasn't honest why. I was never truly committed to the relationship from the beginning."

Ginny tilted her head a little, "And?"

"She tricked me. She tricked me into shagging her."

His wife cupped her hands over her mouth to suppress the laughter, "How do you possibly get 'tricked' into shagging someone? It's not as if she could convince you that the two of you were just out walking the dog."

He hadn't expected her to respond this way. he didn't know why but he was a little off-put by it, "I can go into gory bloody detail if you like. I promise it won't be nearly so humorous if I do..."

"I just can't wrap my head around it," Ginny admitted. "If I'd known trickery would work I'd have used it long ago.

Harry crossed his arms unhappily, "Forget it. I was just trying to say that you weren't the only one to regret doing something."

Ginny's instincts took over. She tried to bury her smile. It was obvious the story hurt him deeply. At first she was curious about the details. How did someone trip you into sex? A little voice in the back of her head warned her, 'you don't want to know you don't want to know you don't want to know.'

His story had done it's job though. Whatever had happened had been extremely embarrassing and he was only telling her to make her feel better about her own foolishness. She did feel better too. All this time she'd been worried about something that really wasn't all that important. Harry loved her anyway.

He, on the other hand, felt even worse. Harry felt like he should tell her the whole truth. She had a right to know. He was going to give it a go, "There's more. It has to do with you."

Ginny looked up into Harry's eyes. Without a moon in the sky his eyes were just two more stars. She shook her head as she stopped him, "There isn't anything more I need to know. We've spent the better part of a decade fumbling about. There isn't one more thing I want to know about that's happened before this moment right here. I think it would be best if we start fresh and promise that no matter what our past held that we don't let it affect our future. I nearly let one little mistake keep me from standing here tonight. I'm sure you felt the same way at least once. Let's just promise that from here on we move forward and not look back."

Harry nodded. He didn't know if he deserved a fresh start but he'd try.

**ZZZZZZZ**

Lavender watched Harry as he finally shook the thoughts out of his head. He frowned, "I didn't turn what happened into a positive. I skirted around the truth."

"She knows, Harry." Lavender made herself more specific, "Not the details. She knows you did something that you regret. She knows it had to do with her. Ginny doesn't _want_ to know the details. She wants to move on. You loving her now is more important to her than anything that happened in the past."

"It kind of happened in the recent past," he protested. "Very recent."

"Trust me, Love," Lavender reassured him as she patted him on the shoulder, "everything that happened before that conversation at the lake was _**eons**_ ago to her. Do you think that a marriage is made in a wedding chapel? Most people get married months before the actual wedding. It's all the promises that they make secretly to each other while cuddling under a tree that are important."

Lavender smiled, "In your case, you two did everything backwards. You two were married that night at the lake under the stars. You couldn't possibly be properly married until you two go all that business out in the open. When she asked if you two could move on from your pasts? Those were your vows."

The breeze rustled the trees so that the fresh blossoms floated carelessly to the ground. The mist had stopped and the sun now peaked from behind the clouds. Lavender had promised herself that this was going to be her last piece of guidance. She knew that Harry's future was rocky but she'd also learned that she could do very little to change his path without hurting those whom he loved.

She was certain that these last few words would make all the difference in the world, "You have more control over your destiny than you think. The start is taking ownership of your past. Eliza might feel she closed the chapter on your youth but you can't give her that satisfaction. The real end of your youth came when you and Ginny decided that the past was the past and that your future together was more important than anything that could have happened before. Ginny gave you a gift and forgave you whatever the past held. If you embrace that gift then what Eliza did to you was meaningless...she no longer holds any power over you."

"How can I forget what happened?" Harry asked.

"Who says you'll forget? You were forgiven. It doesn't mean you shouldn't feel remorse." Lavender emphasized every word, "Eliza will always be a danger to you and you should let this be a reminder of how dangerous she can be."

Harry nodded understanding but he was ready to move on, "Have you been here before?"

"No. The flowers are lovely. When did you add the new memorial?"

"Like I need to tell you," Harry answered.

"I told you," she reminded him. "I can no longer see."

"At all?"

Lavender considered, "I can still read the stars to a degree. I see glimpses here and there. The ritual wiped away most everything, though. It's taken some getting used to."

Harry smiled. "Good on you."

"Thanks," She pointed to the statue, "Did you bury her things?

"Yes, right there in front of the statue." Close behind the marker for Gabrielle and Iris was a marble statue of a striking young woman who stood over the graves as if she were watching over them. She held a tome etched with an inscription:

**Aphrodite Ourania**  
><strong>2572 BCE – 2001 AD<strong>  
><em>She captured the world with the wink of an eye<br>__But like all those before her  
><em>_She left this existence with nothing more to her name  
><em>_Than her word  
><em>_And her love for her children_


End file.
